


Burning Bridges

by 0mile



Series: Playing with Fire [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Injury, ChangJin main pairing, Crossover Cameos - Freeform, Dragons, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Pirates, War, Witches, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0mile/pseuds/0mile
Summary: Life as king of his country has been treating Changbin well, but there's trouble on the horizon. A foreign country invades and he has to juggle between his duty as a ruler and the relationships he has with his loved ones.---PART 2 OF A SERIES!
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin
Series: Playing with Fire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526963
Comments: 84
Kudos: 220





	1. Wake Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WORK IS PART OF A SERIES. READ PART 1 FIRST IF YOU HAVEN'T YET!
> 
> So here we are! Finally! As you can see there will be 9 chapters in this one, and it will be updated every Friday! After this one ends there will be a third and last part... I'll try not to let you wait too long for that one 😅😅
> 
> Also, this chapter will start with a gore scene right off the bat, which will kind of give you an idea of how some scenes in this story will be. So if that's not your thing, this is the time to back out.

_There’s a dragon in the capital._

Changbin wakes to the now-familiar words.

Without any hesitation, he rises from his bed and follows the steady pull he feels in his gut. It leads him to the palace’s garden, like it has done so many times before. The moon shines brightly through the slowly drizzling snow, hanging low in the sky, casting eerie shadows on the sight that greets him.

There’s a dragon, lying on a bed of wilted flowers, snow not melting as it piles on top of its body. Its face is almost serene despite its stomach being split open.

The dragon is dead.

A large beast, fur reddened with blood, stands over its belly, feasting on its intestines. The sounds of sinews snapping and guts spilling are too loud to tune out. Its pelt is a familiar sight, orange only interrupted by black stripes, like the weapon of Changbin’s family, and like the fur of his late father’s royal mantle.

When the tiger turns its unnaturally large body, it stares at Changbin. Its fangs are long, longer than should be possible, and they glint under the moon’s light in the places they aren’t stained with blood.

Changbin wants to yell at it to stop, but as always, he finds himself voiceless. Shaking, he brings his hand to the hilt of his sword and unsheathes it.

The metal feels cold and rough in his hand, and when he finally gathers the courage to look down, he finds that he’s holding a snake, scales as black as coal.

He drops the creature, but instead of it slithering away, it wraps itself around his ankle, slowly climbing up his leg.

This time, the voice in his head speaks with a hiss.

_This is the fate you chose, Seo Changbin._

Changbin wakes drenched in sweat, grabbing at the sheets next to him, only to find them cold and empty. 

Before he can even get his eyes focused on the sunlit room, the door swings open.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Jisung says casually around a mouthful of bread.

Changbin groans, turning his head to hide his face in the sheets. The sun is too bright for this early in spring. “You were supposed to wake me at dawn,” he mumbles into the fabric.

Jisung takes another bite of his bread while his cheeks are still full with his previous bite. “What are you gonna do? Fire me?” 

“Hyunjin?” Changbin whines the name as a question as Jisung starts pulling the covers off of him.

Jisung finally swallows his food before answering. “He’s downtown with your mom. Did no one inform you?”

“That’s your job.” Changbin turns onto his stomach, completely determined to ignore the world for the rest of the day. 

“Oh, the king is cranky,” Jisung notes before slapping Changbin’s bare ass. “Come on, townspeople-complaint-hour is in like ten minutes.”

“Don’t wanna,” Changbin whines again.

Jisung sighs. “Guess you leave me no choice.” His friend climbs onto the bed and rests his hand on Changbin’s butt.

Before Changbin can ask what the fuck he’s doing, he feels a surge of electricity course through his entire body, the magic making him paralyzed for a few seconds, until it only leaves a burning sensation on his right buttcheek.

He turns to find Jisung sitting there with a smirk, a red mark in the shape of a hand on his ass.

“You burned me?!” Changbin yells, suddenly having enough energy to jump up and push Jisung off the bed.

“Don’t be a baby, baby. It’ll fade.” Jisung grins proudly as Changbin finally climbs off the bed. “Now that you’re up, let’s do some king stuff.” 

Changbin stretches his back, finding it to be stiffer than normal. It’s just different when he doesn’t wake up against Hyunjin’s warm body, his muscles always a tad bit too cold without his lover to heat him up.

When his spine finally pops back into place, he slowly nods, tired eyes closed. “Sure, let’s do this.”

* * *

It’s been roughly six months since Changbin became king. Nothing bad happened, quite the opposite actually. The people seemed to not be as shaken by a dragon’s presence in the city as Changbin had expected. Sure, there were questions, and people were confused at first, but it seemed like Geom made everyone feel safe and protected. Only a fool would attack a nation that had a literal dragon snoozing on the palace’s roof.

And the people also loved the king’s new personal ‘advisor’, Hyunjin. No questions were asked about what his relationship to Changbin might be, and any doubts about his character were nipped in the bud with all the wonderful charity work Hyunjin had been throwing himself into.

So, in theory, everything is running smoothly. 

But it’s still hard for Changbin to adjust to his daily tasks, and even more so to the feeling of responsibility he has to bear.

The entire country is quite literally depending on him. 

“And don’t get me started on the brothels. They’re getting out of hand, Your Majesty.”

The commoner’s voice rips Changbin from his thoughts.

“Brothels? We have those?” he asks, instinctively turning to Hangyeol on his right for answers.

“Yeah, they’re great,” Jisung answers instead, not looking one bit ashamed of his answer.

The man in front of them gasps where he’s kneeling on the throne room’s marble floor. He almost breaks etiquette by looking up, but manages to keep his composure and his eyes glued to the floor.

Changbin clears his throat. “I’ve heard enough. I’ll have someone sort it out. You’re dismissed.”

The man leaves them, the heavy door falling shut behind him, the sound echoing through the now empty room.

“Jisung–” Changbin starts.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Professionalism. I’m working on it,” Jisung says as he inspects his nail beds.

“Well at least you’re self-aware.” Changbin gets up from his throne with a big sigh, knees stiff from sitting in the cold room for too long. He grins to himself thinking about how this is the hardest part of being king just yet, and that the job isn’t as bad as he had expected. “Come on, let’s run some errands.”

They find Seungmin where they always find him, at the stables, lifting bundles of hay with a pitchfork.

Jisung runs ahead. “Hey, Seungmin!” He waves at him, excited, and holds up his hands in defense when Seungmin raises his tool at him, sharp points aimed at his chest.

“Jisung, I get that you’re too uncivilized to fuck in your own bed, but at least clean up after yourself when you make use of the stables,” Seungmin hisses.

Changbin watches it all unfold from a distance with a small smile on his face, eyebrows raised. His right-hand man has a talent for getting himself into trouble, which is annoying at times, but oh how entertaining it can be.

“Listen, Seungmin, my man. Where was this attitude when we were teenagers, huh? I remember how much you loved it when we were in the stables and you–” Jisung swallows his words as Seungmin finally presses the pitchfork into his chest, gently, but hard enough to be a threat.

Changbin clears his throat to announce his presence and Seungmin drops the tool immediately, straightening his back and then bowing slightly. Of course, Changbin gestures for him to stop it with the formal semantics. They’re old friends after all.

“Seungmin, how’s Geom? I hear you’ve been taking good care of him?” Changbin asks.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he answers, and Jisung snorts at the formality, earning a side-eye from Seungmin. “He’s been eating well, but weirdly enough he’s taking a liking to smaller treats. Rats, mostly.”

“Hah, guess old habits never die.” Jisung grins. “Where’s the big boy anyway?”

Seungmin brings his fingers to his lips and whistles loudly. In an instant, the horses in the stables grow restless, whinnying uncomfortably. 

Changbin looks up at the blue early afternoon sky, waiting patiently for the familiar sound of flapping wings. He can hear him coming closer already, and before long, a shadow is cast over them in the courtyard, dust flying up as Geom slowly descends, landing with a loud thud, making the ground shake.

The creature takes up most of what little space they have, and it’s comical to see how he doesn’t realize how large he is, kicking things over left and right with his clumsy wings.

He ignores the others, and goes for Changbin instantly, hot breath almost burning his skin as he licks Changbin’s cheek with his rough tongue. Changbin brings his hand up to pet him, scales hot under his fingers. Somehow, the beast has grown even more during winter, his head almost as large as Changbin’s whole body now.

Geom lies down in the dust, on his side, belly exposed, and Jisung climbs over one of his hind legs to get closer, eager hands ready to give the dragon a tummy rub.

Changbin is reminded of his nightmare, but represses the memory as soon as it surfaces. 

He lets them play around for a little while, until Seungmin becomes obviously annoyed, unable to carry on with his tasks with them rolling around in the dust with a dragon in his workspace. “Geom, why don’t you fly us to the river?” Changbin asks.

The dragon’s head perks up at this, excited at the opportunity to stretch his wings again, and allows them to climb on his back. 

Changbin is used to this now, knows exactly where to place his feet not to slip, where to hold on to so that he doesn’t fall as Geom takes off. But still, it’s a bit scary when Hyunjin isn’t here to help him.

God, he misses Hyunjin, even though it’s only been half a day since he’s seen him.

Changbin lets the cold air blow the feeling from his mind as they ride on Geom’s back. Jisung whoops loudly, hands in the air as they approach the river, not caring about safety at all. Somehow, after the whole deity killing incident, his friend has gotten even more reckless and confident.

How that’s even possible in the first place, Changbin doesn’t know.

They land on a patch of grass by the river’s edge, a place that they’ve chosen particularly for these moments. It’s far away from the bridges, and no fishermen huts in sight. Perfect place to chat with a sea nymph. 

“You sure this works?” Jisung asks.

“Works every time,” Changbin says as he reaches in his pocket to grab the bag of rice cakes Minho made the night before. 

He throws one of the rice cakes in the river and watches it float on the water, bobbing on the current. 

It only takes a couple of minutes before Jeongin surfaces, swallowing it in one bite. 

“Hey kid,” Changbin greets him.

“Hey,” Jeongin says around a full mouth, holding up his hands for more.

Changbin obliges him and throws him another rice cake.

“Looking good, Innie,” Jisung says, taking off his shoes to sit on the edge of the riverbank, dipping his feet in the water. 

“Thanks,” Jeongin says, catching another snack mid-air, “getting used to the sweet water now,” Jeongin pauses to sneeze, “kind of, at least.”

“Sweet water?” Changbin asks

“Yeah, the sea is nice and salty. The river–not so much.” Jeongin holds up his hands again, to which Changbin just empties the entire bag in the water. Jeongin goes after all the rice cakes before they can drift away, and Changbin giggles as it reminds him of the big carps they have in the palace garden. 

“Also,” Jeongin adds, “Seungmin brings me snacks all the time!”

Jisung raises an interested eyebrow at that. “Oh, does he now?” 

“Jisung–” Changbin warns.

Geom takes this moment to dip his head between them and into the water, stealing one of the stray rice cakes that Jeongin missed. Jeongin yells at him to give it back, but Geom just exhales with his nose still underwater, blowing water and steam into his face. 

Changbin laughs at the sight, as it warms his heart to see his nonhuman friends get along so well. But then he remembers, he’s also here for business.

“Jeongin, have you seen anything out of the ordinary lately?” Changbin asks.

Jeongin pauses his splashing of water at Geom’s head and gets a thoughtful look on his face. “Hm, not that I remember,” he answers, frown deepening, “No, wait! This morning, by the river’s end.”

“What did you see?” Jisung asks, peeking over Geom’s neck to get a view of him.

“I was out at sea to get some good water for my lungs, and–” Jeongin sneezes, “this huge fleet passed by, going north, more boats than I’ve ever seen. Hundreds of ‘em. There was no end to it, so I got bored and left.” Jeongin nods to confirm his own words. 

Unrest settles in Changbin’s stomach. It wasn’t uncommon for lots of ships to pass by at the same time, but he trusts Jeongin to know the difference between a normal amount and an armada. “Under what flag did they sail?”

“Hm,” Jeongin pinches his nose, clearly trying to remember, “I think it was this color,” he pulls at his own red hair, “and it had a yellow bird on it! I’m sure of it!”

* * *

“What the fuck is the Sinhean navy doing, returning to the mainland all at once?” Jisung hisses as they walk through the palace hallways.

“I don’t know? Summer break, maybe?” Changbin laughs sheepishly, too embarrassed to admit that he has no clue how these things work. He’s going to have to report to his sister once she returns from her mission, hoping she might be able to tell him more about the workings of their northern neighbor. 

“Well at least we know they won’t do anything stupid,” Jisung says as he goes ahead of him down the stairs towards the basement, “I heard that word has spread about Geom. No one is silly enough to fuck with a dragon.”

“I would think so.” Changbin follows him down and through the long corridor before they’re finally at the basement entrance, two heavy wooden doors locked with a chain.

“Ah, always so welcoming,” Jisung notes as he breaks the chain apart with a flick of his wrist, blue sparks shortly lighting up the darkness around them. Without further ado, he pushes the doors open. “Honey, I’m home! Brought the idiot king with me, so don’t be naked!”

“Like he’s never seen another dick before,” Minho mumbles from behind his desk, hunched over his notes and drawings, illuminated by the light of a single candle. 

Changbin's foot almost slips in something slimy as he tries to enter the room. As he looks down he finds it to be an unnatural green pile of goop, sticking to the bottom of his boot relentlessly. “Love what you’ve done with the place, Min,” he says, while rubbing his shoe against the tiled floor, trying to get the sticky substance off.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll redecorate it soon,” Minho turns in his chair and holds up a drawing, a small but smug smile on his face. “Come look at this.”

Changbin comes closer and inspects the drawing, eyes squinted with the little light he’s got. There’s a bunch of numbers and formulas on the paper, next to the drawing of a man, cut open at the chest. “Uh, good drawing? Didn’t know you did art?”

Minho sighs. “It’s not art. Just something I’m working on, for you, and for the country. A little magic is involved of course. I figured I should take what I’ve learned from making Geom and apply it to do some good in the world.”

Changbin leans in further, suddenly noticing how the man in the drawing has eyes at the side of his head, placed at an unnatural spot, almost like an insect. The sight of it stirs up unrest in his stomach, like it’s wrong to even look at it. But not wanting to hurt his friend, he just swallows, and says, “You know what, don’t tell me more. Just surprise me, Minho.”

Minho’s smile widens. “Creative freedom? I appreciate that. Now, as for my budget–”

Changbin turns, already feeling sweat bead on his neck at the mention of money. “Just ask Jisung, he’ll give you what you need.”

“Oh, I bet he will, in more ways than one,” Jisung adds.

Changbin leaves the basement as fast as he can, before he’s submitted to watching more ungodly things. Again.

* * *

When Changbin makes his way upstairs, he’s already tired, even though he hasn’t done much at all during the day. It just seems that days like these, away from Hyunjin, are more tiring than anything. He notices that despite the warmth of spring, a lonely cold has settled in his bones, making his body stiff. He just can’t wait to see his lover so he can feel whole again.

But the day seems to have other plans for him, because before he can make the turn to his private wing, Hangyeol is waiting for him.

“Changbin, a moment please,” his friend says.

“Sure, what’s wrong?” Changbin asks, trying not to look tired.

“Someone has requested an audience with you. He’s with the queen–” Hangyeol pauses to correct himself, “with your mother in the throne room. Said he knows you.”

A funny feeling settles in Changbin’s chest as he follows Hangyeol to the throne room, the same as he felt earlier while looking at Minho’s drawing, but more urgent. And somehow, he isn’t surprised when he spots the familiar mess of curly hair and dimpled smile chatting up his mother.

“Changbin! This is the lovely man who came to tell me you were still alive last year,” his mother says as he enters the room, a fond smile on her face.

“I get a weird vibe from him, Bin,” Hangyeol whispers behind him softly.

“I know, I know. Just smile and pretend, Hangyeol,” Changbin whispers back, but Chan raises his eyebrows like he’s heard it all, which should be impossible from that distance.

Nervously, Changbin moves closer, wiping his hand on his shirt before reaching out to shake Chan’s. “Long time no see, friend. What brings you to the capital?”

This is when Changbin finally notices Felix, sitting on the floor in the corner, playing with one of his mother’s cats that roam the palace freely. He looks up to smile at Changbin before answering the question he directed at Chan. “We thought it’d be fun to stay here for a while.”

Chan, who hasn’t let go of Changbin’s hand, smiles again. “What he said. I feel like interesting times are coming. I’d like to be here, see what I can do to help out.”

Changbin pulls his hand free and tries to hide his uneasiness with a soft laugh. “Sure, whatever. We have some free rooms you can use.”

“Great,” Chan turns to his mother and puts his hand on her shoulder, and says with a smile, “Your family is so welcoming. I already love it here.”

Changbin doesn’t miss the sound of Hangyeol grabbing for his sword.

* * *

He’s about ready to collapse onto his bed and knock out once he opens the door to his bedroom.

The sight that greets him, however, wakes him right up.

Hyunjin stands in front of the tall mirror by the window, moonlight shining through the small opening in the curtains, illuminating his freshly bathed naked body as he lathers himself in lotion.

Changbin leans against the door frame, his headache already dissipating as he watches him work diligently. Hyunjin pretends not to notice him, putting his foot on a stool and paying extra attention to lotioning his thighs, the part of him that Changbin loves so much.

As if Changbin isn’t head over heels in love with each and every part of him.

“You’re just gonna stand there watching me?” he finally asks, looking over his shoulder with a cheeky smile.

Changbin doesn’t know how to respond to that, because it’s genuinely what he was planning to do, until Hyunjin asks, “Get my back for me, will you?”

His body moves before his mind can catch up, and before he knows it he’s behind his lover, bathing in the wonderful smell of his body mixed with the lotion. Hyunjin hands him the jar, and Changbin sniffs it before dipping his fingers in, breathing in the wonderful calming smell of lavender and cashew nuts.

“Minho?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Hyunjin groans as Changbin applies the lotion to his bare back, thumbs digging into his shoulders, massaging the tension away. “It’s supposed to help with back pain.”

“Didn’t know deities could get back pain,” Changbin says, running his finger past the cord around Hyunjin’s neck. He never seems to take off his necklace with the dragon pendant, not even when he bathes. 

“They do if they work as hard as I do,” Hyunjin retorts with a giggle. “Me and your mom were up before dawn. We helped out with painting some of the walls and building the beds before we could officially open the new orphanage. It was a success though, the kids seemed happy.”

“Hm, and that’s why the people love you,” Changbin stands on his toes to press a quick kiss to Hyunjin’s neck, right below his ear. “Perhaps I should go with you next time.”

Hyunjin turns at that. “Come on, the people don’t hate you, they just–”

“Like you more?” Changbin finishes for him. 

At this, Hyunjin pushes him until the back of his knees hit the bed. “And I love you more than all of them combined, so who is really winning here?” He gives him one more push and Changbin finally falls onto the bed. 

But Hyunjin isn’t far behind, already crawling on top of him, heavy body resting on Changbin, squeezing the air right out of him. He won’t complain, because he fucking loves it.

“Missed you today. So much,” Changbin mumbles sleepily as he wraps his arms around Hyunjin’s back, his sleeves sticking to his moist skin. “‘S not the same without you.”

“Let’s take Geom somewhere tomorrow, okay? Just you and me, somewhere on a mountaintop, yeah? No country to run, no appointments, just– us.” Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle in the darkness as he mutters the words.

Changbin only nods, his smile almost breaking his face.

He knows that he needs to tell him about Chan and Felix, or about the thing Jeongin saw, but all thoughts leave his head when Hyunjin finally kisses him.

For the first time that day, he feels warm again.

* * *

When he wakes up, he does so while gasping for air, arms flailing, trying to get whoever’s pinching his nose shut to stop.

“Still works,” his sister says, finally pulling away.

“You’re back?” Changbin’s voice is hoarse from sleep. Confused, he asks, “How was the east?”

Cheonsa walks to the window and pulls the curtain to the side, looking outside. “Boring, peaceful, suspiciously peaceful, but that’s not why I’m here at the crack of dawn.” 

She turns, and suddenly Changbin realizes Hyunjin is still sleeping next to him, very naked, covers barely hiding anything. Changbin pulls at the blanket to cover his lover, who seems to be able to sleep through anything. His sister just snorts.

“Don’t bother, I know everything and I don’t care.” She leans down to pick a piece of hay from her riding boot. Changbin realizes she came here first thing after returning to the capital. “We got a problem, Changbin.”

Changbin’s heart freezes at her serious tone.

“The emperor of Sinhae has passed two days ago,” she elaborates, face sullen.

“Oh,” Changbin sits up, hugging the blanket, “I must send a letter of condolences.”

“I would slap your head if it wasn’t a capital offense.” Her eyes fall on Hyunjin’s sleeping figure, and for a moment Changbin can swear the usual look of disdain in her eyes has disappeared, but reappears as soon as she looks back at Changbin, voice cold as she says, “If you’d allow me to give you some advice, that would be great.”

Changbin rubs at his sleepy eyes as he answers, “It’s not like I could stop you, so shoot.” 

“We need to expand the army. And the navy. We got forty ships, Changbin. If something happens, we’re fucked.”

Changbin’s sleepy head tries to put two and two together, but he just feels lost. “Wait, what do you think could happen?”

“As a nation, it’s been a while since we’ve shown our powers, especially since you _took_ the throne,” she says, and Changbin doesn’t miss the underlying meaning in her choice of words, “Sinhae has three crown princes, and it takes a year for the country to decide who gets to become the new emperor. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them would try to exhibit strength by gaining new territory.” 

Changbin thinks it over, but he can’t even imagine someone would actually do that. Who would be crazy enough to just start a war over nothing? Isn’t peace something you should always aspire to? He had never thought he would ever be in such a position, having grown up during peaceful times, so he hopes it won’t turn out like that. But still…

“What are you suggesting?” he asks with genuine interest.

Cheonsa’s face lights up a bit at his question. She pulls a small notebook from her pocket and hands it to him. “I’ve worked on this on my way back here. These are the cities I suggest we visit for recruiting. I’ve also calculated how much it would cost to build more ships and train navy soldiers.”

Changbin flips through the pages and tries to see through all the military terminology and endless stream of numbers to understand what is written. “It says here you’d be leading the expedition. Why?”

Cheonsa huffs a quick laugh. “Who else?” She puts her boot on the end of the bed, mud leaving stains as she inspects it absentmindedly, picking even more straw from the laces, ignoring Changbin’s annoyed frown. “I’m leaving within the next ten days, as soon as my men have recharged. We’ll split up, as is written in my notes, and recruit new soldiers. Even women.” She pauses to look up at Changbin, eyes dark and determined. “I expect your full cooperation,” for one second, Changbin mistakes her look for loyalty, until she snorts, seemingly pondering where to leave the mucus, until deciding on clearing her throat from spit and adding, “my king.” 

When she finally leaves, she leaves the room doused in heavy energy, like she always does. Leaving Changbin to once again study the notes his sister gave to him, trying to make sense of the words. He gets the gist of it since he’s not stupid, but there’s just too many things that he’s never even heard of.

It angers him. The fact that he chose to spend his whole childhood practicing with Hangyeol, pulling pranks with Jisung, playing with the horses, instead of giving in to his father’s attempts to teach him this stuff. But more than that, he’s scared. Scared that he’s not smart enough to be king, scared his own ignorance will be the downfall of the country, or even worse, get him and his loved ones killed. 

Hyunjin stirs next to him, and it startles him so bad that he tosses the notebook to the floor, the thud of it waking his lover even further.

Changbin lies back down on his side, hoping his favorite activity of the day, watching Hyunjin wake up, will distract him from his worries. He reaches to play with the long, slightly messy hair in the other’s neck, pulling it softly to try and coax him into opening his eyes.

Hyunjin just groans in protest, smacking his lips a couple of times, still puffy from sleep, until he asks, “Why does it smell like dirt in here?” with his eyes still closed.

“Morning breath?” Changbin suggests, pinching Hyunjin’s nose playfully, unlike his sister had done to him earlier. 

Hyunjin pushes his hand away and interlaces their fingers. “We promised, no more lies,” he whispers.

Changbin chews on his bottom lip and thinks about the abandoned notebook on the floor. But when Hyunjin is looking at him so lovingly, making him feel so safe and secure, he can’t hide anything.

So Changbin tells him, but only the details of the situation, and the details of Cheonsa’s plans. He doesn’t mention his fears and worries, decides to keep that to himself. Maybe if he doesn’t talk about his feelings out loud, they will cease to exist.

Hyunjin just listens, like he always does. Nothing more and nothing less.

And it’s everything Changbin ever wanted in life.

* * *

Watching Geom always calms Changbin down.

There’s simplicity in the way the dragon acts purely on instinct, and sometimes Changbin can still see that tiny little creature in him, the way he was when they first met. How he cocks his head to the side when someone tells him to do something, pretending he doesn’t understand. Or the way he wiggles his large behind when he’s about to pounce on a rat, which is still his preferred snack, no matter his size.

Which is how he finds himself once again, on the palace balcony, staring down at the stables in the courtyard where Seungmin is trying to clean Geom’s teeth.

The young man no longer seems intimidated by the rows of sharp fangs. Instead, he just looks annoyed at the dragon’s dramatic protest.

Felix, who seems to have settled in quickly over the past few days, sits on a bale of hay while chewing on an apple, watching it all happen with his eyes sparkling from joy. 

Changbin almost finds his calm in the scenery, almost, because of course Chan has to come outside onto the balcony and disrupt his peace and quiet.

“Care for a drink, friend?” Chan asks, holding two glasses with a golden substance.

Changbin takes it and sniffs it, a bit suspicious, even though it smells like regular plum wine. “Not your magic wine, is it?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Nah,” Chan raises his glass for cheers, “at least yours isn’t.”

Changbin clinks their glasses together and then takes a quick sip. The warmth spreads quickly in his chest, warming him up just like the setting sun already had, but only just enough to keep him from turning cold until he sees Hyunjin again.

Chan takes his place next to him, leaning on the railing to see what Changbin had been looking at. “Ah, has the beast stopped growing for now?” he asks, raising his chin to gesture at Geom.

“I sure hope so,” Changbin answers before taking another sip.

Then, silence falls. It’s awkward and tense, and Changbin runs through his mind to come up with an excuse to go back inside, the uneasy feeling he gets from Chan ever-present. 

He’s about to tell the other that he has business to attend to when Chan clears his throat and says, “I know I make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for that.”

Changbin wants to tell him it isn’t true, but finds himself at a loss for words. It’s hard to deny at this point, especially since Chan seems to know already. But Chan just raises his hand to gesture for him to stay quiet.

“It’s just that–” Chan fumbles with the bracelet on his wrist, the sound of golden pendants clinking against each other getting lost in the wind. “I’m still getting used to being around humans.”

Changbin swallows, still not sure what to say. But he doesn’t have to think long about it, because Felix’ bubbly laugh sounds from the courtyard, echoing off the palace walls. “You’ve been around him, though,” he just says.

Chan laughs at that, the sound cold. 

He doesn’t have to ask, because the wicked grin on Chan’s lips tells him enough. “Felix is not human,” Changbin answers his own unspoken question. 

The other nods solemnly, grips onto the railing and leans back, looking up at the sky. “And yet,” he closes his eyes and takes a deep, calm breath, “he’s more human than I’ll ever be.”

Changbin’s stomach twists into a tight knot, but not like before. No, he’s not uncomfortable now, just sad. Chan looks like he isn’t bothered by his own misery, and that somehow reminds Changbin of himself, many years ago, just satisfied with his suffering, not willing to do anything about it.

Hesitantly, Changbin reaches out to put his hand on Chan’s shoulder, giving it a couple of pats, trying to act friendly. Chan watches his hand in amusement, but doesn’t comment.

“Chan! There you are.” Hyunjin’s voice grabs Changbin’s attention so fast, that he almost snaps something in his neck as he turns his head. Hyunjin walks onto the balcony, waving a letter in his hand. “What do you know about the eastern deity?”

“Uhm, met him a couple of times,” Chan pauses to comb through his curls, “small guy, really feisty. Don’t wanna get on his wrong side. Why?”

“He wrote me a letter,” Hyunjin tries to hand it to Chan, but Changbin snatches it from his fingers first, overwhelmed by his curiosity. Chan doesn’t seem to mind and just leans over his shoulder to read with him.

> _‘Dear Deity of the South,_
> 
> _I write to you with great pleasure and curiosity! Oh, how wonderful it is to find out you’re alive and thriving!_
> 
> _It is my honor to invite you to my house, so we can exchange knowledge and gossip over a nice cup of tea. (I have heard you are quite clumsy with your divine powers, but I can help you with that!)_
> 
> _Please bring your betrothed, the young king, since I’d love to meet him too._
> 
> _Love, Deity of the East,_
> 
> _D._
> 
> _Ps. Please do not bring your dragon. I mean no offense, but they’re quite messy.’_
> 
>   
>    
> 

“You should go, Hyunjin. Might learn a thing or two,” Chan says before Changbin can even finish reading.

“I want to, but,” Hyunjin plays with the hair in his neck, twisting it around his finger, a worried look on his face, “he didn’t even write where he lives.”

“Well,” Changbin says with a small grin on his lips, “I bet it’s in the east.” Hyunjin snorts at this, but Changbin is happy to see his face lighten up a bit. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Chan says, turning to lean over the railing, his hands around his mouth as he yells, “Oi, Felix. You know how to find the Deity of the East, right?”

Changbin looks over just in time to see Felix pull his head out of Geom’s mouth, a big scrubber in his hand. The dragon clearly trusts the young man more than he does Seungmin.

“Of course!” he yells back with a proud smile before Geom licks the side of his face, the sheer force of his rough tongue almost tipping Felix over.

Chan turns back around. “See? He can take you there, no problem.” The grin on his face makes it seem like he thinks he’s solved it all, and it kind of annoys Changbin, but he pushes the feeling away in light of giving the other man a chance.

“You think we could go?” Hyunjin asks, his attention on Changbin.

He has to think about it, but it’s hard to not let his feelings get in the way. The thought of going on a road trip with Hyunjin tickles a sentimental bone in him, and it’s something he wants so badly, if only to make up for how awful it ended last time. On top of that, being away from the capital, away from his responsibilities, isn’t an unwelcome thought either. 

“We can leave in two days,” is what Changbin finally settles on. “We ride with Cheonsa and her men until we have to split up. That way we won’t have to worry about food or protection. After that, it’s just you and me.”

“And Felix,” Chan adds.

“And Felix, of course,” Changbin corrects, trying not to roll his eyes and fight the urge to throw him off the balcony.

* * *

“Jisung, I have an important task for you.” Changbin closes the door behind him, checking the lock twice.

“Aw, Changbin. _Of course_ I’ll run the country in your absence.” Jisung brings his hand to his chest, sniffing while he fakes crying. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That’s not–” Changbin sighs as he walks over to take a seat behind his desk. “My mom will be in charge. You know this.”

Jisung just shrugs, finally sitting down across from him. “Was worth a shot.”

Changbin laughs, but then the sound kind of dies in his throat. He didn’t ask Jisung to come to his office for jokes. Jisung seems to notice the shift in energy, and repositions himself in his chair, shoulders straightened and eyebrows furrowed.

“The thing I’m about to ask you needs to stay between these four walls,” Changbin says, and Jisung nods. “So you can’t tell Minho either, you got it?”

“Of course, Bin,” Jisung says, huffing out a light laugh, “you know you can always trust me.”

Some of Changbin’s worries dissipate at that, and he can feel the uneasiness slowly ooze out of his body. Jisung has always been someone he could lean on, someone who was there for him when no one else was. This eases some of the guilt of the fact that he’s about to tell him something he hasn’t even told Hyunjin.

“Alright, here’s what I need you to do–”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! 
> 
> Also, in light of current events concerning the BLM movement and police brutality in the States, please click [here](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) to see a good collection of things you can do right now. Stay safe but don’t stay silent.


	2. The Swan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments <3 I'm not in the right headspace to reply to them, but I truly appreciate them!! Also I was feeling quite sick as I was editing this one, so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes. See you next Friday!

It’s been a while since he’s seen his father, is what Changbin thinks as he enters the throne room. 

The air is cold, way colder than it’s supposed to be around this time of year, and Changbin swears he can see clouds of his warm breath in front of him as he slowly approaches the familiar figure on the throne.

It’s hard to get a good look at the old man, the moon shining through the single window at the other end of the tall room being the only thing to illuminate the space between them. Once he gets closer, he finally sees it.

His father is staring right back at him, but he doesn’t _see_ him. It’s like he’s looking straight through him, like he’s not even there. The wrinkled skin on his face is gray, almost as pale as his hair, making him look sickly, devoid of any color. He looks even worse than Changbin could’ve imagined a dying man to look like.

“Father? You called for me?” Changbin asks, his voice echoing off the room’s walls.

Finally, his father seems to notice him, and the disinterested look in his eyes grows into a panicked one. Changbin has never seen his father scared, but there’s no way around it now. 

That’s the face of a man fearing for his life.

His father opens his mouth to speak, and Changbin holds his breath for whatever is to come.

But nothing has prepared him for the single snake, slowly slithering out of his father’s mouth.

Changbin stands frozen, unable to move, forced to watch as the snake makes its way down his father’s chest. Once the tail is in sight, and the snake has fully exited, his father’s body falls limp, head sagging forward, palms up by his side. 

Not unlike his previous dream, the snake makes its way to Changbin, wrapping itself around his leg until it quickly climbs its way up. Its skin feels cold to the touch as it coils around his neck, the smell of dirt and fire filling his nose as it hisses a string of words next to his ear.

_“All that a prince ever wants is to be king.”_

A warm and urgent hand shaking his leg is enough to wake him from his dream. 

“Your Majesty?” a deep voice asks, the tone polite and gentle.

Changbin groans, spine cracking as he tries to move his body on the hard surface. He blinks and is immediately blinded by the sun shining through an opening in the tent’s tarp. Ah, that’s right. They’re already on the road, have been so for two days. There’s nothing like a good nightmare to make him forget about all of that.

“Your majesty.” The hand on his leg shakes him again.

Changbin looks up and he’s eye to eye with Felix, crawled halfway through the opening of the small tent, the younger boy blinking back at him with a polite smile.

“Don’t–” Changbin’s tired voice cracks as he speaks. “You don’t have to call me that, just call me by my name.”

Felix’ face lights up at this, even more so than it already was. “Okay, your M– Changbin.”

Changbin looks next to him where Hyunjin is still soundly sleeping, impossible to wake up as always. Momentarily, he worries about what Felix might think of Hyunjin sleeping next to him, but the thought disappears quickly. There’s just something calming about Felix’ presence, which makes Changbin feel like he wouldn’t be judged for anything he does.

“Are we leaving soon?” Changbin asks. “Is that why you woke me?”

“No, your sister wanted to see you.” Someone walks past the tent, and the boy quickly pulls the tarp shut behind him, just to make sure no one looks inside. “She asked me if I could get you for her.” 

“You talked to my sister?” Changbin tries not to flinch at the thought. Felix, sweet and kind Felix, whose eyes seem so bright that they probably haven’t seen how cruel the world can be. His skin probably isn’t thick enough to deal with his sister’s harsh remarks. He must not have the resistance Changbin has built up over the years.

“Yup,” Felix says as he finally moves to sit on his butt instead of his knees at the end of Changbin’s makeshift bed. “She ran into me as I was brushing Astoral’s coat.” Ah, yes, Chan’s terrifying stallion that he of course lent to Felix. “We talked about horses. She’s nice.”

Changbin shakes his head, trying to rid himself of his sleepy fogginess. “Cheonsa? Nice? Are we talking about the same person?” 

Felix raises his brows with an innocent smile. “Yeah? I think so?”

Changbin tries not to think about it too much as he forces his aching body out of bed. Felix doesn’t seem inclined to leave to give him some privacy, so Changbin just turns his back to him as he gets dressed. Instead, the younger boy switches his attention to Hyunjin, playing with his socked toes in an attempt to wake him up as well.

Hyunjin and Felix had never met during the years Hyunjin spent on the island, Chan always left Felix on the shore while he visited because unlike Chan, Felix wouldn’t be able to come and go as he pleased. But they seemed to get along like they’d known each other for years now, such close friends already that it would make Changbin jealous if he weren’t so entertained by just watching the two of them interact.

Changbin checks his appearance in the small mirror he had packed for the trip, making sure his crown was properly seated on his messy hair. This one isn’t as heavy as the one he has to wear around the palace, fortunately. It’s made of gold-coated metal, therefore pretty light, the golden feathers curling around an emerald in the front, a collection of pearls gathering on the rest of the structure. He pins it to his hair to make sure he won’t lose it while riding his horse. Despite him being king, his mother would still scold him if he did. 

“Oh, Changbin, I forgot to mention,” Felix calls after him when Changbin attempts to leave the tent. “She said you should bring your sword.”

* * *

It takes him a while to locate his older sister. He checks for her by the horses, then in the main tent, and eventually at her personal tent, finding that one to be empty as well. He’s about to give up when he walks past the outer side of the camp, hearing the familiar sound of a sword swinging through the air. 

After traveling up a hill, while following the sound, the trees grow thicker and thicker around him, until he’s in the middle of the woods. Changbin is grateful for the winds going downhill, because if it weren’t for them he would have never picked up the sound. After clumsily climbing over a fallen tree, almost slipping on the rotten bark, he finds Cheonsa in a clearing, swinging her sword.

He’s always been fascinated by seeing his sister fight. She doesn’t have the elegance or finesse that Changbin has been taught, especially since she was born left-handed, forced to wield the weapon with her less dominant hand. And yet, she looks lethal, moving with the confidence that only someone who has never lost a fight to the death can have.

The wind picks up and Changbin shivers.

Cheonsa finally seems to notice him, stalling her movements. “Took you long enough,” she says, indifferently. 

“Well,” Changbin starts, slapping the dirt off his pants, “Felix didn’t tell me where to find you.”

A small smile appears on Cheonsa’s face, but disappears as quickly as it came. She lifts her sword to point at Changbin. “I see you brought your sword. That’s good.”

“Why?” Changbin asks with a laugh, his hand falling to his sword. “Do you wanna fight?”

“Yes,” she answers within a heartbeat.

“Uhm.” Changbin’s fingers shake as he wraps them around the hilt of his sword, the metal heating up under his touch instantly, Hyunjin’s enchantment still in place. He tries to read his sister’s face, but it’s void of any emotion. At least there’s no blatant hatred on it, which is a nice change. He wouldn’t want to fight her when she’s angry. “For what reason?”

“I’m in a sentimental mood.” She flips her sword around in her right hand, bored, impatient, Changbin has a hard time figuring her out. Cheonsa’s sword isn’t special, the same as all the soldiers under her command. It doesn’t have the golden decorations Changbin’s has. It’s a functional sword, with only one purpose: taking people’s lives.

“We used to only spar with wooden swords,” Changbin tries, cold sweat beading on his neck.

“And yet I’ve never beaten you.” Cheonsa moves into position, raising her sword, left leg forward. “I want to see if things have changed since we were kids.”

With his hand still tightly clamped around his sword, Changbin walks closer. He chews on his lip as he slowly comes to a stop in front of his sister. Raising a weapon against the king is a capital offense, so the fact that she is willing to break the law for a silly match must mean there’s something more to it. 

Reluctantly, he unsheathes his sword, the weight in his hand instantly calming him down. “Rules?” he asks.

At this, Cheonsa just smiles and rolls her eyes.

Before he knows it, she’s two steps closer, sword swinging right at his neck.

Changbin has to hold his sword with two hands to block her, the force with which she’s pushing it down not even comparable to when they last sparred, which is more than ten years ago now. But despite her strength, Changbin is still stronger than her. So with his heels digging down into the moist dirt, he manages to push her back.

His sister seems surprised, eyes widening as she stumbles backward. But Changbin should have known better than to think he could surprise her, because in an instant she bends her knee, planting it into the ground firmly as she puts all of herself into swinging at Changbin’s waist. 

It’s then that Changbin realizes this isn’t a simple match, nothing playful to it. He’s sure that if he doesn’t defend himself, she’d open his guts like a pig at the butcher’s. Good thing that defense has always been his strong suit, Changbin thinks as he blocks her, the sound of metal against metal as his sword meets hers, his elbow gracefully sticking up as he holds his form.

Unlike before, Cheonsa doesn’t try to push him back. Instead, she lets Changbin block her attack easily as she moves past him in her momentum, foot hooking behind Changbin’s ankle.

When the back of Changbin’s head touches the wet dirt, he can’t help but smile a little, reminded of all of his practice fights with Hyunjin. His lover liked to pull this stunt on him, and each time it managed to surprise him. It was that eagerness to win instantly what Changbin liked so much about their sparring sessions. It seemed like Cheonsa fights in the same way, only focused on that final blow which would bring her victory.

And in this case winning means killing, if the way she brings down her sword to Changbin’s neck is anything to go by.

But of course, Changbin rolls to his side in the dirt, avoiding the death blow. 

He knows how to beat her, he realizes with a humble grin.

With newfound confidence, he raises his sword, inviting her in. She takes the bait instantly.

Knowing what kind of fighter she is now, Changbin manages to defend himself against all of her attacks, but not even once does he consider fighting back. Cheonsa continues to swing at him with all of her force, face growing more frustrated by the minute.

Changbin holds his form, meeting her sword with his at every attack, back straight and ever graceful, just like Hangyeol taught him. 

As he expected, Cheonsa grows more tired and angrier with every swing of her sword.

Which causes her to make a fatal mistake.

In her attempt to catch Changbin off guard, she rushes her next attack, her thumb lifting off the hilt as she brings her arm back for another swing, leaving her inside undefended.

But Changbin doesn’t care that her vital organs are exposed, that was never his goal.

He swings his sword overhead, using all the force he had saved up during defense, and hits Cheonsa’s sword mid-air. With a loud clunk, he hits it hard, making it fall from her grasp.

She tries to grab after it, but it flies through the air, landing away from them, too many steps for her to get to when Changbin’s sword is already at her throat, preventing her from even moving.

Carefully, he raises her chin with the blade. It would be a waste if the sword accidentally nipped her now. Hyunjin’s magic still raced through it, the warmth of the hilt reminding Changbin of that. If he cut her skin, she would go unconscious, and that would be quite counterproductive. 

Cheonsa huffs a small laugh, raising her hands in defeat. “You got me.”

But Changbin isn’t convinced she’d give up so easily, so he slowly walks forward until his sister is backed up against a tree with nowhere else to go.

Weirdly enough, she doesn’t seem too bothered about the pointed end of the blade being at her neck, cocky eyes on Changbin as she says, “See, I already knew you would win in a fair fight.”

The swift sound of metal against metal is the only thing that warns him before two short swords are at his throat, crossed against his windpipe, coming from both sides, giving him nowhere to run as the person behind him whispers in his ear.

“Too bad life isn’t fair, Binnie.”

“Jiwoo?” he asks, recognizing the voice of Hangyeol's older sister instantly. 

She laughs and even though she’s not lowering her swords, all fear instantly leaves Changbin’s body. Despite Jiwoo being his sister’s best friend, he still trusts her with his life, as he would with anyone from the Kim family. 

“Nice to see you’re taking good care of the sword my dad made for you,” she says, nudging Changbin’s leg with her knee.

“What’s the point of this?” Changbin asks, shivering even with the blades on his neck slowly warming up against his skin. Despite it all, Changbin doesn’t drop his sword.

“Like I said, I wanted to see if you were any good in a fight,” Cheonsa answers.

Jiwoo chuckles at that. “Don’t mind her, Bin. She was worried about you. Wanted to make sure you’d be safe traveling without your big sis protecting you.”

“Jiwoo!” Cheonsa hisses with her eyebrows raised and eyes wide, and Changbin thinks it’s the first time he’s seen his sister scared, even if it’s only a little bit.

But Changbin doesn’t get a lot of time to think about it, because before he knows it, he hears the familiar sound of metal sizzling against skin behind him. 

“Fuck!” Jiwoo screams as she drops the swords. Changbin drops his own weapon and turns to see the other woman blowing at her burned hands, shock on her face.

Changbin finds the source of the magic instantly. “Hyunjin! Stop!” he yells as he spots his lover at the side of the clearing, his hand raised, glowing red, eyes on Cheonsa now. “It’s okay!” Changbin quickly runs to him, grabbing him by the shoulders to snap him out of it. “We were just playing around. That’s all.”

Hyunjin blinks down at him, pupils blown wide. Changbin hates seeing him like this, it’s like he’s a whole different person when he’s forced to use his powers against other people. 

Slowly, Hyunjin seems to understand what happened, quickly hiding his face in his hands in shame. “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” he mumbles.

Changbin wants to hold him and kiss him and tell him that that’s not true, but he can’t. Not in front of others.

When he turns, Cheonsa is kneeling down in the dirt, inspecting the burned skin on Jiwoo’s hands. Fortunately, it’s not as bad as it could’ve been. Just slightly reddened, a warning from Hyunjin to back off. 

It could’ve been so much worse.

“Changbin,” Cheonsa turns her head to face him, “care to explain?”

“I can heal you,” Hyunjin says as he finally walks into the clearing, his attention on Jiwoo. He walks up to her and squats down, completely avoiding Cheonsa’s stare as he takes Jiwoo’s hands in his.

“Well, that’s just fucking crazy,” Jiwoo says as the wounds on her hands slowly disappear under Hyunjin’s healing touch. 

Changbin doesn’t like the way his sister is looking at Hyunjin, her eyes only looking away from him to glance at her sword, which is lying in the grass at the other end of the meadow. He tries to think of an excuse, of something to say that will make his sister back off, but luckily he doesn’t have to, because Hyunjin finally speaks up.

“I’m a deity of the elements,” he says softly, while inspecting Jiwoo’s hands for any more imperfections.

“Sure,” Cheonsa replies, voice cold.

Hyunjin drops the hands and turns, his eyes finally meeting hers. Changbin stands on the side, still as tense as a pulled string, not knowing what to do. However, Hyunjin just brings up a single finger, holding it up between them as if he’s pointing at the sky. Instead of looking where he’s pointing, Cheonsa holds eye contact.

Which is good, because this way she has full vision of the flame that shoots from Hyunjin’s finger.

The heat hits Changbin like a slap in the face, and he has to smile a little. Both at the comforting familiarity of it, and also at the shocked look on his sister’s face.

Hyunjin brings down the flame until it’s the size of a burning candle, leaving it to flicker between them. “And yet, it’s true.” 

Jiwoo whistles in awe and Cheonsa opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it again, before promptly standing up. She quickly walks over to get her sword and Changbin’s blood freezes. He steps in front of Hyunjin to protect him, but surprisingly enough, Cheonsa just sheathes her sword.

“Now that I know that you’re in good hands,” she starts, eyes on Changbin, “we can all forget about this.”

Changbin lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, and can’t help but smile proudly. His sister’s ways of complimenting Hyunjin might be sideways, but still, he’ll take what he can get.

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing Felix from your little traveling party, though,” she says, slapping the dirt off her knees. “I’ll have him draw you a map of how to get to your location, wherever the fuck you might be going.” She clicks her tongue when a particularly stubborn patch of dirt won’t come off her riding pants.

“Wait, why?” This time it’s Hyunjin who speaks up, confused.

“He–” Cheonsa seems to hesitate, but when she turns to walk away from them she finally continues.

“He has a way of convincing people. It’s useful on my mission. That is all.”

* * *

“I think this is it.”

Hyunjin halts his horse by the edge of the woods, pulling the map Felix drew from his pocket. It turns out that Felix is quite good at drawing from memory, and he was very eager to do so. Almost as excited as he was about the mission Cheonsa gave him.

Whatever that might be.

Changbin eyes the woods. It doesn’t look any different from any other forest they’ve traveled past over the last two days, and yet it _feels_ different. The leaves rustle as the wind passes through them, blowing an almost sweet smell into his face. 

He urges Hwan to walk closer to Hyunjin’s horse, looking over his shoulder to peek at the map. Felix had been detailed in his way of describing how to get to the forest. After that, they were on their own.

“Let’s camp out for the night?” Changbin suggests, eyeing the quickly darkening sky. “We can explore the woods tomorrow. This guy can be anywhere, for all we know.”

“You’re right,” Hyunjin frowns as he eyes the trees. “I don’t feel any– energy. So he might live on the other edge of the woods.”

“Let’s get off the road and find a good place to sleep, okay?”

After a couple of minutes of wandering, they find a good spot. The trees are spread thinly here, providing cover for them to stay hidden, but also enough room for them to keep their horses close to the camp. Changbin slides down his horse and immediately pulls off his hood that he had to wear on the road, just so he wouldn’t get recognized.

The cool breeze is a welcome one, drifting through his sweat dampened hair. He runs his fingers through it, happy he’s had a good reason to keep his crown somewhere hidden away in a bag. His hair has been growing fast, and it won’t be long before he’s going to have to tie it up. 

“I’ll go look for some firewood. Can you set up the tent?” Hyunjin asks as he ties his horse to a tree.

“Sure,” Changbin answers absentmindedly while massaging a painful knot in his shoulder.

It isn’t until Hyunjin disappears into the trees that Changbin realizes he has no clue how to set up a tent. 

Over the past few days of traveling, it was always Hyunjin who took it upon himself to build the tent, since he’s tall enough to get the longest stick thingy up in the middle part of the tarp thing. God, Changbin doesn’t even know what those parts are called.

But, he’s not going to give in so easily. So he unties the tent bag from Hyunjin’s horse’s saddle, and rolls it out, trying to remember what goes where.

After a few minutes of fumbling, and almost poking his eye out, he has to admit defeat.

Worry settles in his stomach when he looks up and notices that it’s almost completely dark now. Hyunjin still hasn’t returned with the wood. How long has it been?

“Hyunjin?” he calls out into the darkness, startling the horses.

No response.

Going against everything his mother has ever taught him, he picks himself up and makes his way deeper into the forest. He has to squint his eyes and can only see a few steps in front of him, courtesy of the moon which is slowly creeping higher in the sky. 

He looks over his shoulder to make sure that he can still see the horses, and raises his hands to his mouth, calling for his lover again. 

This time, the leaves of the trees just rustle above him as an answer.

Changbin is slightly annoyed that Hyunjin would walk this far from their camp, but the feeling is overshadowed by concern. 

He hears a screech and suddenly he’s back to where he was months ago, in another forest, hearing his friends scream while they fight off a group of bandits, fire everywhere.

The owl responsible for the sound flies off, wings flapping in the wind, but Changbin doesn’t see it, doesn’t hear it.

All he can hear is the sound of fire blazing, swords against swords, arrows flying, Geom’s jaw snapping shut around someone’s head. 

Men dying.

He crouches down into the undergrowth, covering his ears, breathing harshly. He prays for it to go away until all he can hear is the sound of his own blood rushing through his head. 

For a while, he sits like that, until the sound of a bunch of sticks clattering to the ground in front of him snaps him out of it. He pulls his hands from his ears and opens his eyes just in time to see Hyunjin kneel down in front of him. 

Hyunjin wastes no time to take his face in his hands, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his sweaty skin. “Hey, you alright?”

Clearly, he’s not, but Changbin still nods, his voice nowhere to be found.

“Sorry, I got a little lost. I shouldn’t have left you.” Hyunjin’s eyes shimmer in the darkness, pupils wide with the lack of light. His lover lets go of his face and stands, holding out his hands to pull Changbin up.

Changbin is still a bit shaky, so he stumbles once he gets upright, falling into Hyunjin’s arms. But it’s alright, he feels safe in his hold. He feels like home.

“I didn’t set up the tent yet,” Changbin admits, mumbling it into Hyunjin’s shirt.

Hyunjin only giggles at that a bit, but there’s no judgment in it. Instead, he brings his hand to the back of Changbin’s head, his fingers running through his long hair before he pulls him closer, tightly against his chest.

Changbin breathes in deeply, his breath shaking a bit. He gets dizzy from Hyunjin’s natural scent, and wonders how he manages to smell so heavenly even after days on the road. It must be a deity thing, that must be it. Just like the wonderful heat his body radiates as always. If he stays like this, Changbin won't ever need that stupid campfire. 

Hyunjin presses a soft kiss to the top of Changbin’s head, taking a deep breath as well. “I missed this,” Hyunjin whispers.

Changbin has to admit he missed it as well. Despite them sharing a tent each night, they never dared to be close, in fear of being found in a compromising position. That, and being too tired to even cuddle from traveling all day long.

But now Changbin is starved. He needs to be close to his lover, to be held by him, to touch him.

Hyunjin seems to feel the same way, because before long he’s backing Changbin up against a tree, almost tripping over the discarded sticks on the ground. 

Changbin wants to suggest they go back to the camp to continue this, but when he looks up, there’s something dark in the glimmer of Hyunjin’s eyes. And he likes it.

“Our first kiss on the mainland was kind of like this,” Hyunjin says, raising Changbin’s chin with a gentle touch of his finger.

Changbin smiles at the memory. It feels so long ago and yet so fresh in his mind. “This time Minho isn’t here to interrupt us,” he whispers back.

Just like that night, Hyunjin seems hungry. He doesn’t even waste a breath on answering him. Instead, he just brings his face forward to crash onto Changbin’s lips.

Changbin whimpers into his mouth, shoulders going slack instantly, body so pliant whenever his lover touches him. And touching him he does. It’s like he’s everywhere. His big hands behind his head, pulling him closer, and then exploring under his shirt, fingers so hot that they almost burn his skin. Changbin thinks that he wouldn’t even mind if they did. He would sport the marks his lover left on him with pride. 

Hyunjin pulls away, lips wet and parted. “I want you,” he whispers breathily.

To prove his point he grinds his crotch against Changbin’s hip, hissing at the friction. Changbin can feel the lower part of his stomach coil in arousal, nerves rushing through him like they’ve never done this before. 

He just nods, and that’s all Hyunjin needs to know before he moves to his neck, biting into his skin eagerly, peppering kisses to comfort the bruised skin. With practiced hands he moves to Changbin’s pants, squeezing his hardness once, twice, before pulling at the strings, untying them.

Changbin whines, for something, anything, urging him to hurry up, just get to it–

The sound of someone clearing their throat has them both frozen.

“Just so you know,” the voice says, “there’s like two–no, three magical creatures hiding in the shadows right now, ready to kill you as soon as you start whatever you were going to do.”

Changbin finally notices the warm light, casting a Hyunjin shaped shadow on him. He grabs his pants by the waistline, pulling them up as he stands on his toes, peeking over his lover’s shoulder. Hyunjin turns as well, albeit less curious and more cautiously.

Once his eyes get used to the light, Changbin is finally able to make out a young man. He stands a few trees removed from them, holding up a lantern with a candle burning inside. The man is leaning against a tree, disinterested, and it almost seems like he has been watching them for a while before he said anything.

When his eyes meet Hyunjin’s, he finally smiles politely, and says, “Nice to meet you, Hyunjin. It’s me who you’re looking for.”

* * *

The steam wafting up from his tea is a nice and welcome heat on this cool spring morning.

Changbin blows into his cup to cool the water down, eager to take a sip and see if his experimental blend of herbs and ginger is any good. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the liberty of grabbing whatever he could from the kitchen to make himself a drink, but their host had told him to make himself at home.

Their host, the Deity of the East, is nowhere to be seen on this morning. But Changbin doesn’t try to dwell on it, and instead focuses on waking up.

It’s hard to wake up properly from where he’s sitting on the deck in front of the little house, overseeing a small pond in the middle of the meadow. A family of ducks has taken residence in the pond, and their quarreling and quacking makes Changbin feel like he’s still in a dream. The sun finally peeks through the trees and warms up his cheeks, making drowsiness overtake him once more. 

Over the bristling of leaves he hears Hwan snort from the other side of the house, where he left him the night before with some fresh water and more grass to chew on than he’s ever had in his life. Somehow, plants seem to grow more vibrant around this part of the forest. Changbin can feel it, that familiar rush of electricity under his skin. 

He’s surrounded by magic.

His attention is drawn back to the pond in front of him. The family of ducks aren’t the only ones living there. No, they are merely tenants, living under the one who truly rules this pond. 

The swan drifts gracefully on the water, its feathers pearly white and beak pitch black, devoid of any color. Changbin has never seen a swan like this before. It’s way larger than the ones they have at home in the palace garden, and even those have some orange in their faces. Aside from that, there’s something majestic to this creature, powerful almost, and Changbin just can’t make himself look away. It’s almost like he’s drawn to it, almost like–

The door sliding open behind him has him lose his focus. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Hyunjin asks while rubbing his eyes, making the wood shake under them as he drops himself to sit next to Changbin.

“You ask me to perform such an impossible feat?” Changbin asks with a small smile, reaching over to mess up Hyunjin’s hair even more than it already is. Hyunjin moves in to the touch, like he always does, and Changbin can see how his eyes close instantly. He quickly pulls away his hand, knowing Hyunjin could just fall asleep again even though he’s sitting up. Changbin’s touch tends to do that to him.

“I made tea.” He holds up his cup, offering it to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin takes it without any consideration, drinking from it before even smelling it. Instantly, his face contorts, his nose scrunched and eyes squeezed shut. He hands the cup back to Changbin and dramatically waves his hands in front of him, before finally deciding to swallow the drink after all.

“Not good?” Changbin asks. He would be concerned about poisoning his lover, but at this point he’s pretty sure Hyunjin is immortal. 

Changbin pours out the cup’s contents onto the ground, not surprised to see the grass instantly wilt. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Hyunjin suddenly says, quietly.

“What?” Changbin huffs, putting his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder before squeezing it softly. “You think I’d pass up on some alone time with you?”

Hyunjin’s smile is small but sweet when he turns to him, head cocked to the side. “I feel like you got better things to do. You’re so busy nowadays.”

“So are you,” Changbin teases, giving his shoulder a little nudge. 

But the smile he shows Hyunjin is a mask. He never intended for it to be this way. 

When they left the island, almost a year ago, Changbin’s heart was filled with dreams, hopelessly romantic, naive dreams. He wanted to live the rest of his days with Hyunjin, giving him the attention he deserves. Silly as it was, he expected them to be able to enjoy their honeymoon days forever, drowning in each other’s presence, until the point that his love for Hyunjin would suffocate him inevitably.

Reality turned out to be far from that.

Nowadays he’s burdened with a job that he’s not even good at. During every council meeting, all the paperwork and signatures, every outing, all he can think about is returning to Hyunjin’s side, just so he can feel a little like himself again. Because that’s the thing. He feels like he’s an imposter, a fake, putting on the costume of a king each morning. But Hyunjin sees him for who he truly is, makes him feel like it’s safe to be himself.

“You know I’d give it all up for you, right? In a heartbeat,” Changbin whispers like it’s a secret, moving closer to Hyunjin until their shoulders touch. 

“I don’t want you to.” Hyunjin leans in until Changbin can feel his breath on his face. “I would never ask that from you.”

Changbin moves forward, his forehead bumping into Hyunjin’s, glancing down at his lips. “Then we’re in this together, okay?”

Hyunjin wets his lips, his pupils blown wide as he stares back at Changbin for a while, until he finally agrees and says, “Together.” 

Changbin is about to close the small gap between them and finally connect their lips, when a loud voice sounds through the meadow. 

“Hello lovebirds!” Out of nowhere, the Deity of the East appears from the trees, carrying what seems like a heavy, shoulder bag.

Changbin moves away from Hyunjin as quickly as he can, clearing his throat. “Good morning.”

“It is, isn’t it?” the deity answers, walking up to them and plopping down in the grass in front of them. He then reaches into his bag and holds up an apple that’s almost the size of his head. “I traded it for some buttons. Don’t tell the forest nymph it’s an unfair trade, or she might try to behead me next time I step a foot outside of this area.”

Cautiously, Changbin watches the other put the apple aside in the grass and pull out some nuts from the bag, before carefully cracking one in his fist.

The boy has a youthful and cheery air to him, and if Changbin had to put an age to him, he’d estimate him as barely eighteen. But he realizes looks can deceive as he glances over to Hyunjin, who accepts one of the nuts that the deity offers him.

He holds up his hand towards Changbin next, three nuts in his palm, which Changbin gladly takes since he’s starving. “Thanks, uh–”

“Daehwi,” the other answers, a broad smile forming on his face. “I know right? ‘Daehwi the deity’. Cracks me up every time.”

“Why did you invite me, Daehwi,” Hyunjin asks while chewing.

“Didn’t I tell you in my letter?” Daehwi answers, throwing some nuts over his shoulder into the pond. The ducks chase after them and Changbin is somehow reminded of Jeongin. The swan, however, remains undisturbed, floating on the water peacefully.

“Yeah, but,” Hyunjin sighs, his jaw clenching before he continues, “why would you help me?”

“Because I’m just that kind!” the deity says, clutching his stomach as he laughs, but there’s no joy to the sound.

Changbin bites his cheek as he watches him gather himself, and looking between them, probably expecting them to settle for that as an answer. But Changbin is too curious for that, and Hyunjin too persistent. So they just sit in silence, waiting.

Finally, Daehwi seems to settle on an answer. “When I was in your position, hundreds of years ago, I had no one to teach me. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone else.” He quickly glances at Changbin before focusing on Hyunjin again. “I wouldn’t want you to accidentally hurt someone, considering your– your position.”

“Hyunjin would never hurt anyone.” Changbin says the words too quickly, too rushed, completely forgetting that such things have already happened. It was only a couple of days ago that Hyunjin burned Jiwoo’s fingers.

Changbin opens his mouth to say something else, but Hyunjin discreetly raises his hand, stopping him from doing so. “I want to learn,” he says, “teach me.”

“Alright!” Daehwi claps his hands together, looking excited. “Show me,” he says, gesturing for Hyunjin’s hand.

Hyunjin reaches out, and puts it in the other’s palm. “Show you what?”

“Your powers!” Daehwi raises his eyebrows and shakes Hyunjin’s hand. “Come on now, we don’t have all day!”

Changbin huffs through his nose, because they in fact do have all day.

The heat hits him before he sees it. A flame erupts from Hyunjin’s palm, growing in size until it reaches taller than them, but only barely. 

It never ceases to amaze Changbin how he can just do that so easily. Create something out of nothing. Something so destructive, and yet so helpful. It’s a beautiful thing, as long as you don’t get burned.

“Cute,” Daehwi says with a giggle, leaning forward to blow out the flame with ease. “I see why you’re so weak.”

Changbin laughs nervously. “That was weak?”

“Incredibly weak.” Daehwi holds his pointer finger in the air and says, “You get your power from the physical plane, and that won’t do. It will only tire you out.”

“But–” Hyunjin frowns. “Where else should I get it?”

“Tell me, Hyunjin.” Daehwi gets on his knees in the grass and leans forward to whisper. Changbin can’t help but lean in as well, his curiosity all-consuming. “When people worship us, where do you think they send their prayers?”

“The other realm?” Hyunjin suggests.

The deity clicks his tongue. “Nah, that’s a witch’s term. We call it something else.” He turns to Changbin. “Even humans can see it sometimes, when the conditions are right, it’s easy to spot.”

“How do we see it?” Changbin asks.

“You ever watched the sunrise, and when the sun rays hit the air just right, you see an orange glow spread through the whole sky, like another ceiling?” Changbin and Hyunjin nod in unison. “That’s it. We call it the Dawn. It’s another sphere of existence, and only us deities can enter and leave it freely.”

“I remember–” Hyunjin pauses to chew on his bottom lip, eyes absent. “I remember going there once, when–” he shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter. I remember it felt like I was floating upwards.”

“Exactly!” Daehwi seems to ponder his next words for a bit, before he says, “There’s another place as well. You can see it when the sun sets, a deep red on the horizon. But us deities can never enter the Dusk.” He pauses, bringing his thumb to his mouth to bite a piece from his nail. “My friend learned that the hard way.”

“What happened to your friend?” Changbin asks before thinking.

“His body–” Daehwi casts his eyes to the grass and cracks one of his fingers. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? Wouldn’t want you to get nauseous this early in the morning.”

“That’s okay,” Hyunjin says softly. “So what you’re saying is, this other dimension is where we have our power stored.”

“That’s right. And the more prayers and worshippers we have, the more power.” Daehwi lifts himself off the grass and stands in front of them. “I barely have any followers now, so I’m not that strong. But it’s enough for something–”

He raises one hand in the air, and Changbin can feel the shift in energy, can feel the electricity on his skin from whenever he’s close to something magical. The ground rumbles a bit underneath them, and for a second Changbin is scared that Daehwi is going to pull the earth from underneath them, but then he spots it.

The water in the pond across from them is shaking, strong waves making the ducks quack in panic. Before he knows it, the water shoots up into the air, spreading out all over the clearing, in some kind of dome, capturing them underneath it. The ducks look confused as they sit on the muddy ground where the pond once was. The swan just sits undisturbed. 

The sun is distorted as it shines down on them, the ripples in the thin layer of water reflecting off their faces. Changbin is impressed, to say the least, and when he looks over at Hyunjin, he sees that his jaw is also dropped.

“It’s great for defense–” Daehwi says with a smirk on his face. In the blink of an eye, the water gathers in the sky, almost solidifying into one shape, before it comes searing down like a spear, the sharp point stopping right in front of Changbin’s nose. “And offense,” the deity adds with a giggle, entertained by Changbin’s shocked face.

Hyunjin, however, isn’t shocked. Changbin can feel his heat radiate next to him, burning so hot that it stings his skin. With a glowing hand, Hyunjin reaches over to grab onto the pointy end of the water spear. At his touch, the water turns into steam, evaporating into the air.

“Alright,” Hyunjin says with a determined look on his face, “teach me.”  
  



	3. Drums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!
> 
> Something happens in this chapter that I was unsure of how to tag. So, if you’re okay with heavy themes such as character death, violence, and major angst, and don’t want any spoilers, then ignore this note!
> 
> Now, if you do have some trouble with those themes, then I have a small spoiler for you that might make you feel a little better. Click [here](https://imgur.com/SY51QfM) for the spoiler.
> 
> Also if this chapter leaves you with a bad feeling, you can always scroll up and check out the spoiler anyway!

The moon reflects beautifully on the pond, the water calm now that the ducks are sleeping in the tall grass. The swan drifts quietly, tracing circles in the water around the full moon’s reflection. One does not seem more powerful than the other, and at one point, Changbin loses focus on which is which.

He has to blink through the sleepiness of his eyes and remember why he came outside in the first place. Somehow, the swan catches his eye again, almost lulling him back to sleep with its steady, hypnotic pace.

But then he feels it; the warm, wet sensation on his hands.

He raises them in front of his face and his breathing stops.

Blood

So much blood.

How did it get there? Is it his own? Or worse, someone else's? Surely he would never hurt anyone. Right?

He drops to his knees in the grass, his pants soaking up the dew, and sinks his hands into the water, frantically trying to wash them clean. 

The water does nothing. He scrubs at his skin until his palms feel raw, but the blood doesn’t leave. It drips into the pond and spreads, quickly turning all of it red. The smell of iron enters his nose and turns his stomach. It smells old, earthy, and like death. Wrong. 

Slowly, the swan swims closer, white feathers impossibly unaffected by the red water underneath it. 

Changbin gives up on cleaning his hands when the swan halts in front of him, the animal locking eyes with him in a way that he can’t look away from it. Its eyes hold so much wisdom and serenity, something that only comes with lifetimes of experience.

He can feel the sparks on his skin, can feel some type of magic trying to enter his head, like whispers. The words try to creep into his ears, tickling his face like a centipede, getting closer to dig its way in.

Curious, he leans in, wanting to know what the swan is trying to tell him.

But all the words get lost when a loud scream wakes him from his deep sleep.

“There’s a dragon in my garden!”

Changbin opens his eyes and is greeted by a dark room and Hyunjin groaning sleepily next to him. The voice was loud enough to even partially wake Hyunjin, so it must have been really loud. From outside, he can hear some scuffling and the familiar sound of heavy gusts of breath being exhaled from a large beast’s nose.

Geom.

“My flowers! Look what you’ve done to my flowers!” Daehwi’s distressed voice comes from the back garden, so Changbin quickly gets up and tries to follow it.

His head rushes from standing too fast and it makes him dizzy, so he practically stumbles off the porch and into the wet grass with his bare feet. The sight in front of him is somehow quite hilarious to his sleepy brain.

Geom is lying down, squashing all the pretty wildflowers and plants with his weight, completely unbothered by the deity shooting water at him, evaporating all of his attacks with one breath of hot air.

“Daehwi,” Changbin says with his hoarse voice, “leave him be, he means no harm.”

The other turns, face red from exertion and anger. “I specifically said, no dragons! What is he doing here?”

“Geomie?” Hyunjin appears next to Changbin, rubbing at his sleepy eyes like he’s still in a dream.

Changbin’s heart freezes when he finally spots the fireproof box tied to Geom’s neck.

That’s a bad sign if Changbin has ever seen one.

He ushers Daehwi to the side as he walks closer, gesturing for the dragon to lower his head. Geom, ever so fond of Changbin, does exactly that, but not before licking the side of his face with his rough tongue. Changbin hisses, since the heat burns his skin a little, but he lets it go in favor of his curiosity.

Changbin clicks the box open and finds a scroll in it, and nothing else. Hyunjin is already beside him, providing him with a flame the size of a candle’s to read the message in the dark, moonless night.

> _‘Sorry for sending Geom, I thought it would be faster._
> 
> _There have been some riots on the north side of the river due to the new tax system. I’m going over there myself to see if I can calm the situation down, but the people need to see their king soon._
> 
> _Miss you, brother._
> 
> _-Han ‘godslayer’ Jisung_
> 
> _(Yes, you still need to get back to me on making that my official title. Thanks in advance.)’_

“I have to go home,” Changbin concludes after he finishes reading it, “they need me.”

Hyunjin puts his hand on Changbin’s shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. “Do you want me to come with?”

Changbin almost says ‘yes’ on instinct, because he wants nothing more than to have Hyunjin by his side. But they’ve only been here for three days, and Hyunjin has finally started to respond well to Daehwi’s training. He’s so close to unlocking all the secrets to his power, and Changbin can’t take that away from him, especially since an opportunity like this doesn’t come very often.

“No,” he finally says, “I’ll be alright. You can stay here until you’re finished.”

“If you leave now, you can get there before sunrise,” Daehwi suggests, standing a safe distance away from Geom.

“I’ll do that.” He quickly glances at Daehwi, who gets the message and looks away so Changbin can pull Hyunjin into a quick kiss. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he whispers when they pull apart.

Hyunjin offers him a soft laugh at that. “Says you.”

* * *

The city is still sleeping when he arrives, so he takes care to land on the roof quietly. Geom, now more experienced with flying, does an almost perfect landing, only knocking over a few things on the roof. But it’s alright, Changbin figures that they haven’t woken up the whole palace.

Daehwi was right, it’s just before sunrise. The heavy, thick fog that blankets the city is starting to light up with the first sun rays.

Changbin takes a moment, walking to the edge of the roof to stare at the view. As long as no one is awake, he’s in no rush.

He can’t see the sun, but he can see its orange glow through the fog, a warm, bright circle peeking over the horizon at the east end of the river. 

Just like it warms his face, it also warms his heart to see his city like this.

 _His_ city.

The city he grew up in, where he learned all of life’s lessons the hard way. The city where he made most of his friends, went on secret adventures with Jisung, and discovered his passion for sword fighting.

And now it is his to rule over. He is the one to decide its fate, for better or for worse.

Changbin breathes in deep through his nose, letting the cold morning air enter his body, and closes his eyes, enjoying the moment.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

The voice is like an unwelcome shiver, pulling him back to reality.

“I’ve come to watch the sunrise each morning since I got here,” Chan says, leaning against the door that leads down the palace’s stairway. “It’s a nice city you got there, Changbin.”

“I know.” Changbin keeps his eyes on the horizon, trying to peek through the fog as Chan walks up to stand next to him, casually leaning over the edge. “You’ve seen Jisung around?” he asks.

“He left to go to the other end of the river last night,” Chan answers, pausing to yawn, “my guess is he’s still there.”

Changbin hopes he comes back soon. Not only does he miss his best friend, but he also feels like he can’t make any big decisions without his counsel. And according to his letter, there were some big decisions to be made.

The sun finally slips over the horizon, painting the entire fog orange. But there’s a weird glint to it, something dull. He leans over the edge to get a better view, especially of the north side of town, where the colored fog seems to be most prominent. 

There’s a smell to it too, something familiar.

Geom, fast asleep, huffs behind him, and suddenly he recognizes it.

It’s fire.

Chan, next to him, doesn’t seem to notice it. He’s unbothered, peering at the city with a loving gaze, chin resting on his hand.

Meanwhile, cold sweat beads on Changbin’s neck as a panic so visceral that it freezes him erupts in his stomach. The smell gets worse, overwhelming, and soon he sees how smoke mixes in with the mist.

And that’s when the drums start.

A low, deep sound. Its rhythm is slow but constant. Threatening. 

It’s all he can hear, like it’s vibrating through his head, blocking out all other sounds.

They’re under attack.

He doesn’t hear Chan’s worried voice until he shakes his shoulder. “Changbin, I think you need to go inside. Now.”

He feels like he’s in a haze, his feet carrying him to the stairway like they’re not his. Before he descends he takes one look over his shoulder, just in time to see the fog clear up to reveal the whole north side of the river to be on fire.

* * *

Seeing his mother look distressed is not something he’s familiar with. Not even when his father died did she look affected, always the small, confident smile on her face, not a hair out of place.

So to see her standing at the head of the table in the council room, tears in his eyes, hurts him more than he could ever imagine.

Next to her, in a chair pushed away from the table, sits a patrol soldier. His face is covered in blood and he quietly sobs, shoulders shaking.

“What’s going on,” Changbin demands as he enters the room.

It’s Hangyeol, who he hadn’t even noticed, who fills him in. “They attacked the patrol posts at dawn, probably had some soldiers infiltrate the city during the riots yesterday. We’ve been told the rest of the army entered the city during the chaos of the fires.” Hangyeol spares the soldier a glance, his eyes filled with pity and worry.

Changbin shakes his head, trying to ignore the still beating drums. “Who?”

Hangyeol looks up at him like he’s asked a silly question. “The Sinhean army, of course.”

Changbin’s stomach drops at the mention of their neighboring country. Cheonsa had been right all along. He should have seen it coming, should have anticipated faster. Now his sister is on the other side of the country with most of the army while the capital burns.

Hangyeol rolls out a map of the city on the table. Changbin’s mother doesn’t look at it, instead, she moves to the window to quietly stare at the plumes of smoke on the horizon.

“I’m not a strategist, but–” Hangyeol traces the river on the map, “as long as we fight with what forces we have, we should be able to chase them back from where they came from and stop them from crossing the river. We can’t let them kill every civilian on the north side, Changbin.” 

Changbin leans on the table to stare at the map like it has any answers. He doesn’t even know how many of their soldiers are still stationed on this side of the city. Or how he would split them up along the river. He counts the three bridges, and counts them again. Would the foreign army spread out and cross every bridge to attack from all sides? Or just focus on one?

He wishes his sister were here, she would surely know what to do. Or Jisung, his best friend always knows how to get out of a dire situation with his quick wits.

Jisung. 

Quietly, someone comes to a stop next to him, looking over his shoulder.

“Minho–” Changbin starts, but Minho’s face is cold, free of emotion.

A heavy silence hangs between them as they both look at the map to the north side of town, where Jisung is, possibly fighting for his life. Or worse.

Minho takes a shaky breath, betraying his feelings, and finally speaks. “Someone once said you shouldn’t fight fire with fire, but–”

“No.” Hangyeol's voice is stern. “There’s another way.” Hangyeol grabs Changbin by the shoulder and turns him. “Our guards are good fighters, they can force them back.”

Minho’s finger falls to the map, pointing at the streets that are on fire. “If you put a box with a rat on one’s stomach, and hold a flame to one end, it will eat its way out through the flesh.” His finger slides to the biggest bridge, tapping at it. “It’s not about them wanting to cross, they’re gonna have to cross with the fire chasing them.”

“No, you can’t–” Hangyeol starts.

“Just wait. Their army will have to cross eventually. And then you have Geom burn them all,” Minho says calmly. “Anyone who survives will fall down into the river and drown.”

“And not protect our people who are getting killed in the streets? They’d be trapped there.” Hangyeol's voice is high pitched with anger. “Minho, surely you would not want that.”

Hangyeol doesn’t say it, but the suggestion is there, and it’s enough. Changbin has heard stories about Sinhean warfare. They don’t take prisoners.

Changbin tries to think about it with a clear head, tries to not let his judgement get clouded by his best friend possibly dying. Hangyeol might be confident about being able to chase them back, but it’s not a risk Changbin is willing to take. If they lose that bet, they get the capital, and thus the rest of the country. 

His mother just stares out the window, offering no counsel.

“Are you sure?” he asks, turning to Minho. His friend just smiles reassuringly, but the gesture holds no joy.

“Alright.” Changbin nods, more to himself than anyone else. “Let’s burn the bridges.”

Before he leaves the room, Hangyeol grabs him by the shoulder. "Changbin," he says, voice cold, "you've just sentenced thousands of innocent people to death."

* * *

It’s fascinating to see Minho with Geom. The dragon always listened to Hyunjin, did whatever he told him to do, but it was out of fondness. With Minho, it’s obedience. He is his maker, after all.

Minho sits on his knees in the gravel of the roof, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against Geom’s. Changbin can see his mouth move, but he can’t hear his whispers. 

Nervously, Changbin watches over his town. The drums have finally seized, but it doesn't soothe him. Quite the opposite actually. It’s ominous, a hidden meaning in the silence.

Your move.

Hangyeol left to guard the bridges with his men, only exchanging the necessary words with Changbin, clearly still upset. It makes Changbin question his decision, but he can’t show his doubts now, can’t show weakness. The people need him to be a leader.

Minho seems to be finished, because he stands, leaving Geom to fly out and land on one of the watchtowers, eyeing the river. There’s a different glint to the creature’s eyes, something more intelligent than he’s used to. 

“And now we wait,” Minho says, moving to stand next to Changbin.

Changbin doesn’t reply, but instead moves his monocular to his eye, running it past all of the bridges one by one. Where will they cross first? Will they even cross? The fires in the city are still roaring, so it’s either retreat or advance now.

He doesn’t know how much time passes. It could be minutes or up to an hour at this point. His body is tense, muscles aching from stress, his head light from holding his breath. But it’s Geom who spots it first, shifting his weight on the watchtower and finally spreading his wings to take off.

On the outer left bridge, a unit of foot soldiers start marching across, slowly. The front line waves the familiar red flag. Their intentions are clear.

Changbin holds his breath as Geom takes off, the wind of his wings flapping hitting him in the face as he passes in front of them. He flies low over the buildings, casting a shadow on the roofs. 

The soldiers must not notice him, because they march on, in a slow but steady pace, stomping their feet much like the drums earlier.

Geom takes a left turn, making the river ripple under him as he glides over the water. Changbin watches through his monocular and can see how some soldiers halt at the sight of the dragon approaching sideways. But they get shoved in the back by others, urged to keep on moving. Changbin doesn’t understand why they won’t speed up. If they start running, they might be able to cross. At least some of them.

But they won’t, because Geom is already raining fire on them.

Changbin can’t hear the screams, but his imagination provides him regardless. The sound of men dying isn’t something he can ever rid his mind of.

While holding his breath, he watches some jump over the edge to escape Geom’s attack. But they get swept up in the current of the river, much like Minho had predicted. 

Finally, the structure collapses, and the middle of the bridge disappears into the river. There’s no way to cross now. But it doesn’t even matter, since every soldier that was on the bridge is dead either way.

Changbin wants to heave a sigh of relief, but then he sees it.

Another formation appears, this time on the outer right bridge. These, however, are prepared, holding their shields above their head to fight the flames.

“Come on, Geom,” Changbin whispers as he realizes the dragon hasn’t spotted them yet, too busy burning what’s left of the bridge.

But it’s as Geom has heard him, because he turns his head, putting his attention on the other bridge. Within seconds he’s at the other end, opening fire.

However, the other army’s strategy seems to work, since Geom only manages to get to some soldiers, while most stay protected by their shields. This seems to frustrate the dragon, since he completely forgets about his ability to just destroy the bridge under their feet, instead just focusing his flames on the men as they steadily advance.

“Oh no,” Minho’s words are more like a breath of air than anything, and Changbin thinks it’s about Geom’s antics. But then Minho’s hand is on his monocular, moving Changbin’s line of sight to the bridge in the middle, the biggest of them all.

This unit is not like the others. They’re not marching slowly, or on foot. These men are on horseback, running along the bridge as fast as they can. 

With his heart in his throat, Changbin follows the line to the front. What he finds makes his heart stop.

It’s a tiger.

The tiger from his dreams.

It’s impossibly large, taller than the horses behind it, fangs peeking out of its mouth, way past its chin. On its back is a young man, screaming with his arm raised to the sky.

Changbin watches in horror as they progress undetected.

“Silly lizard,” Minho hisses as he moves his hands together, folding them in prayer as he whispers words Changbin doesn’t know.

Whatever he did, it works, because with one raging flame, Geom destroys the bridge having hundreds of soldiers fall to their death. He turns around, no longer bothered by his previous task and flies to the largest bridge in the middle.

But this time it’s an even more difficult feat.

The man in the front turns on the back of his tiger, and pulls out a bow and arrow. A weapon so simple shouldn’t be a threat to the dragon, but Geom can’t help but instinctively dodging the arrows aimed at him, taking sharp turns mid-air. It forces him to move back, and start burning the back of the formation instead.

Just like Minho predicted, having a dragon chase them with fire only makes them cross faster, and quickly, they’re already past the halfway point of the bridge. The road crumbles, and debris falls into the river, but the man with his tiger remains unscathed in the front, still followed by a considerable amount of soldiers.

It’s the first time Changbin sees Geom angry. The dragon loses focus and recklessly flies over the soldiers, burning everyone he gets his eye on, completely forgetting the earlier threat.

The young man slowly stands on his tiger with grace, not even swaying with the beast running at a fast pace underneath him. He raises his bow just as Geom centers his attention on him, flying low over the bridge, ignoring all soldiers except the man at the front. 

This time it’s a scream Changbin can hear.

The arrow hits Geom in his shoulder, right under his wing, somehow penetrating the thick scales and hurting him badly. With one wing unable to move, Geom swerves sideways and falls, until he disappears into the river with a giant splash. 

Changbin watches the water where Geom disappeared as what’s left of the soldiers run right into Hangyeol's ambush.

* * *

Burned flesh and the heavy smell of blood.

Changbin fears it will seep into his clothes, crawl into his skin, and take root in his brain for it to never leave his memory. 

He stands in the wreckage that was once the peaceful streets of his city as he watches his men take care of the wounded. A sick feeling takes hold of his entire body as he sees a soldier pile another dead body onto a cart. One of many. Too many.

“Fighting a tiger is not something I thought I’d do when I woke up this morning.” 

The familiar voice makes Changbin turn, and he watches as Hangyeol climbs over a piece of burnt wood, smoke still rising up from it. His friend is freshly bandaged, but blood seeps through the cotton, a large cut on his shoulder.

“You should be resting,” Changbin says, voice barely there.

“I’ll rest when my men are resting,” he says as he raises his good arm to put his hand on Changbin’s shoulder. “We won, and that’s all that matters.”

Changbin watches in silence as a mother holding a baby passes in front of them. The child can’t be more than a few months old, red cheeks peeking out under the layers of soot as it cries loudly. They join the other townspeople, who are walking in a tight line towards the evacuation ships. At least the new ships Cheonsa commissioned are useful for something.

“How did they even get here,” Changbin asks, more to himself than to Hangyeol. “How did they pass the border?”

“The northern towns aren’t as loyal as you think.” Hangyeol pauses as another family passes by, a mother and three children. Changbin hasn’t seen a single man still alive. “The villagers live in poverty, so my guess is the army got through with some gold and false promises.” 

Changbin swallows at that harsh news. He’d suspected it, sure. His family wasn’t well-liked after his father’s reign. But at least he hoped they would see that he isn’t like his father.

“What about their leader?” Changbin asks quickly.

“Detained.” Hangyeol moves to press down on his bandages to stop the bleeding, hissing softly at the pain. “The crown prince, one of the twins. We think he acted alone.”

Changbin thinks about the young man he saw, leading his army from the back of a tiger. The man who killed Geom. “Are you sure about that?”

Hangyeol frowns. “Changbin, if the full Sinhaean army had attacked we wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Before he can answer, Minho appears from around a corner, soot on his cheeks and dried blood on his fingers. He wipes his hands on his pants roughly as he comes to a stop in front of them. “There are less injuries than we expected,” he states, no emotion to his voice. “Most men were just instantly killed.”

“Any sign of–” Changbin starts, but Minho quickly averts his eyes.

“That is all,” he says coldly, as he walks off.

“Changbin–” Hangyeol starts, but Changbin lifts his hand to stop him.

“Don’t. There’s no time to mourn,” he says, even though he doesn’t mean the words. If it wasn’t for the dry, heavy air burning at his eyes, he would have been crying already. But he swallows his tears, because people need to see their king be strong. If he crumbles now, the whole city falls with him.

Oh, how he wishes Hyunjin were here to hold him.

“Your Majesty!” A soldier comes running, resting his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath before he speaks again. “On the riverbed. We found him on the riverbed!”

* * *

“Stop licking it, you idiot!!” Jeongin never sounds threatening when he raises his voice, and Changbin thinks it’s almost comical how the young boy is trying to knock some sense into the dragon with his small fists.

“Unbelievable,” Hangyeol whispers behind him as they both take in the sight of Geom washed up on the riverbed, the wet clay sizzling around him as he laps at his wound.

“Changbin!” Jeongin yells, waving at him to come closer. “I–” he pauses to sneeze, “I closed the wound with my poison! Isn’t that awesome?!”

Jeongin’s enthusiasm is like a breath of fresh air that Changbin so desperately needed. 

He kneels down, wetting his knees, and puts his hand on Geom’s skin. He’s colder than usual, but he’s alive. So alive. 

“Can I keep this?” Jeongin digs the arrow up from the clay and holds it up in the air as Changbin walks closer. “It’s really cool.”

“Of course,” Changbin tells him quietly. 

Geom finally turns to look at him and exhales hot air right into his face. Changbin’s hair gets blown back and it makes him smile a little.

It’s a small comfort, like a bandage on an open wound. The pain is still there, but at least he hasn’t lost everything.

* * *

The tears finally come when he’s alone. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, all by himself, there’s no one to play pretend for. It’s just him and no one to judge him for loudly sobbing into his hands. Somehow, he’s actually happy that Hyunjin isn’t here. Hyunjin would coddle him, and tell him everything will be okay, and that he did what he could.

Which is not what he deserves right now.

Changbin needs to see the situation for what it is, he needs to see the truth.

Up until now he’s been the king, but just barely. Only doing the absolutely necessary things, and ignoring all the menial tasks that come with politics, blaming his disinterest on his ignorance.

Which is bullshit.

The truth is he’s been scared. Too scared to actually do his job and learn everything there is to know about being king. Scared of the responsibilities that rest on his title. Too hooked on living his little fantasy life with Hyunjin, drowning in the pleasures of his love.

He looks up and watches his pathetic face in the mirror, eyes puffy and cheeks wet with tears.

That fucking ends today.

People died. Too many people died.

And that’s on him, and no one else.

That’s what it means to be king. To carry that burden, to carry the guilt, and still try your damn hardest to make life better for your people, even if they hate you for it.

He stands and walks to the mirror, angrily wiping the tears from his cheeks and takes a good look at himself.

No more self-pity, no more skipping meetings in favor of rolling around in bed with his lover, no more depending on his sister and mother for everything. It’s time to grow the fuck up and step up to the plate. Even if it’s terrifying, even if it’s hard. It’s no longer about him.

Changbin slaps his cheek as hard as he can, and slaps it again, knocking the tears right out of his eyes and shaking some sense into himself.

When he crawled into his bed earlier, he was fully planning on just falling asleep while hugging himself, crying over how sad he was for himself. How sad he was about Jisung. But that won’t get him anywhere.

He snorts, sucking the tears out his nose and swallowing it roughly.

There’s one more thing he needs to do today.

No. 

One more thing the king needs to do.

* * *

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Chan asks, leaning on the wooden bars of the cage, as he watches the tiger sleep.

“Terrifying, if you ask me,” Changbin says, coming to a stop next to him to peer through the gaps.

The tiger is finally sleeping, and it looks even more enormous up close, under the moonlight. Going against Hangyeol's orders, Seungmin had patched the beast up, saying it was too beautiful to let it die of its injuries. Changbin hates that he has to agree with him. 

“I thought you had retired for the night,” Chan says, turning to look at him, a small, empathetic smile on his face.

“I want to talk to the prince,” Changbin says and Chan raises his eyebrows at this, “and I’ve been told that you speak the language.”

“Actually,” Chan leans in to whisper, “I speak every language in the world.”

“Hey now, don’t get too cocky.” Changbin nudges him in the shoulder to move back, feigning annoyance. But Chan catches on and laughs, almost waking the tiger with the bubbly sound of it. Changbin smiles quietly. Perhaps he could be a friend after all.

The descent to the dungeons is a long walk.

They have to walk past Minho’s room in the basement, and Changbin pauses, considering talking to him. But the energy coming from the room is cold and eerily silent, so when Chan seems like he’s about to ask what’s wrong, Changbin walks on.

The soldier guarding the dungeons looks shocked to see Changbin, almost stumbling as he quickly stands, dropping the book he was reading. “Your–your Majesty,” he stutters.

Changbin nods politely, and gestures for him to hand over the keys, which he does with shaking hands.

“Well, at least he wasn’t sleeping on the job,” Chan whispers as he follows him down the dim-lit hallway. 

“Wouldn’t mind it if he did. This place is quite secure.” Changbin stops in front of the final cell, the only door which is locked. They don’t get prisoners down here that often.

This time, Changbin finds his own hands to be shaking as well as he unlocks the door. He has to push his entire weight against the steel enforced wood to push it open, and it slowly does so with a loud screech, old metal complaining.

His prisoner doesn’t look up when he and Chan enter the room.

The young man is chained to the wall by his wrists, knees on the cold, stone floor. His bangs cover his eyes, but Changbin can spot some dried blood on his cheeks. The wounds on his knuckles have crusted up and there’s a clean bandage on his chest. Changbin gets a nauseous feeling when he realizes the prince didn’t go down without a fight.

Changbin turns to Chan. “Can you tell him ‘good evening’?”

Chan nods and says the words in a foreign language that Changbin can’t make sense of.

The prince huffs a small laugh and replies, his answer short and cold.

“Uh–” Chan hesitates for a second. “He said you’re a cunt.”

Changbin raises his eyebrows at that. “Well, tell him I’d like to introduce myself.”

Before Chan can say anything, the prince looks up and locks eyes with Changbin. “I speak the language,” he says through his busted lip with only a slight accent. “Unlike you, I’m educated.”

“That makes this easier.” Changbin’s fingers still shake when he puts his hand to his heart, but he hopes the other doesn’t see it. “I’m Seo Changbin, king of the country you just declared war on.”

The room is silent, the only sound being the torches on the wall flickering in the slight breeze.

But then the chains rattle as the prince finally gets to his feet, standing a whole head taller than Changbin, eyes narrowing as he looks down at him. “And I’m Prince Minghao of the Sinhae empire, second youngest and heir to the throne.”

Changbin tries to hold eye contact, but finds himself struggling. There’s an air of confidence to the prince that he’s not used to. Something off and dangerous. But Changbin can’t let himself get overpowered by him in this conversation, so he says, “I thought all three of you were heir to the throne.”

“Didn’t know you could think,” the other bites back.

“And yet I’m here, and you’re–” Changbin gestures at the chains, “there.”

He doesn’t miss Chan’s soft laugh at that from the corner of the cell. The sound fills Changbin’s heart with some courage. He has the upper hand.

“Tell me,” Changbin steps forward, controlling his breathing as he does so, “why did you attack?”

Minghao stares down at him, a glint to his eyes. “I was bored.”

The words hit Changbin like a punch to the gut, and from the way the other’s mouth twists into a smile he can tell that his shock shows on his face. He tries to wrap his mind around that. It must be a lie, right? 

“Many people died,” Changbin’s voice sounds shaky, “and you’re telling me you did this because you had nothing better to do?” He can feel his face redden with anger, the emotion stirring something under his skin, making his palms sweaty.

Minghao frowns. “Like a king ever gets bothered by his people dying,” he huffs, then raises his eyebrows, “unless–” The prince studies Changbin’s face, a small grin appearing when he realizes something. “Someone you cared about died.”

“Stop,” Changbin warns, sweat breaking out in his neck.

“Someone you loved.” Minghao laughs, the loud sound bouncing off the walls. “And you couldn’t even save them!”

Changbin feels his palm burn from the impact before he realizes what he did. 

Weirdly enough, Changbin’s first instinct is to apologize, so shocked by the fact that he just slapped someone. He never thought he could do anything like this, let his emotions get the best of him so bad that it spills over and makes him hurt someone. 

But before he can mutter an apology, Minghao’s shoulders start shaking with laughter.

The sound is manic, eerie. 

The prince’s right cheek is red when he looks up at him again. He clears his throat and before Changbin can stop him, spits right on his face.

It hits Changbin on the cheekbone, and when he wipes it off there’s blood in it.

Fair enough.

Changbin straightens his shoulders, suddenly ever so conscious of Chan’s presence in the room, studying their interaction. It makes him uncomfortable that he’s seen this side of him now, a side he didn’t even know he had. It’s like an unwanted secret, something no one else knows. A weird itch spreads on his skin from the fact that Chan is the one to know that secret.

“Your brothers,” Changbin starts, finally asking the question he came here for, “why didn’t they come with you.”

Minghao huffs a laugh through his nose. It sounds bitter. “My twin brother didn’t want to fight.” He looks at Chan in the corner, and then back at Changbin. “But now that I’m here–” he cocks his head to the side, a challenge, “he might find the winds to be blowing south soon.”

This time, it’s Changbin’s turn to smile. “Thank you for your cooperation. I hope you enjoy your time here,” he says, false sympathy to his voice.

Chan chases after him as he walks down the hallway to go back into the palace, jogging to keep up with Changbin’s speedy pace.

“You’re gonna give up that easily? I could’ve roughed him up a little for you, Changbin,” Chan offers when Changbin passes the keys back to the guard.

“No worries, Chan,” Changbin turns, a confident grin on his face, “I got what I came for.” 

He leaves Chan with a confused look, but he doesn’t feel the need to elaborate. If he wants to make this work, he’s going to have to act in secret. For now.

Which is why he gets to his knees as soon as he’s back in his bedroom, finding Cheonsa’s notebook discarded under his bed. 

He reads all of it under the light of a single candle, taking notes, making calculations, and figuring everything out. There’s a passage that stands out to him. Another threat to their country, something that has been constantly plaguing their trade routes for years.

But where old Changbin might have seen a threat, this new, high on confidence Changbin, sees opportunity.

By the time the sun is rising, he’s on the riverbank, handing the carefully written letter to Jeongin. He sends him off to deliver it with haste, an excited but terrified feeling in his heart.

No matter what it takes, he will not lose this war.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving comments! I love reading them again and again! <33 
> 
> See you next week!


	4. At Least You're Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!
> 
> warning for some explicit gore at the start of this chapter, but you must be used to that by now from me. also this chapter is a bit of a filler one with quite some sexual content, and therefore a little short. but don't worry, next week's chapter is gonna be big!

Stepping into the room feels like stepping into a blizzard.

Usually, the room is filled with pleasant magic, running over your skin like a familiar buzz, welcoming. Kind. 

Now that it’s been a couple of days, whatever traces were left of Jisung’s magic, have faded, leaving only Minho’s spells. And these spells weigh heavy on Changbin’s shoulders, causing a full-body shiver to course through him. The incense drifting through the air dries his nose, making him unable to smell anything. Which is a good thing in this case.

“You need something, Bin?” Minho asks, pausing his work on the subject that lies on the table to look over his shoulder.

“I was just checking up on you,” Changbin says, carefully.

Minho hums at that and turns back to his work.

Changbin walks closer, and when he finally walks past a bookcase, no longer obstructing his view, he sees what Minho is doing.

He can feel his stomach turn, and then turn again.

There’s a dead body on the table, bloated from decomposing, some limbs missing, some burned. Minho has its chest cut open, ribs disposed somewhere on another table, and is busy sewing a bundle of unidentified herbs right into the corpse’s intestines.

Changbin has to look away before he spills his half-digested breakfast onto the floor.

“What–what are you doing there, Minho?”

“Just trying something new.” Minho leans down, clicking his tongue when something doesn’t go his way. “It’s a good thing you allowed me to search through all the deceased, Changbin. I found some great test subjects.” There’s some enthusiasm to his voice that Changbin just can’t understand.

“I did that so you could try to find him, Minho,” Changbin argues.

Minho finally looks at him again. “Who?” he asks with a blank stare.

Changbin’s mouth drops, and a familiar anger bubbles up in his chest, something he has been feeling an awful lot lately. He wants to counter it, wants to grab Minho by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but before he can, something warm bumps into his leg.

He looks down to find a young tabby nuzzling his ankle, purring softly. This one must be new, since it’s not one of his mom’s. He leans down to give it a nice scratch on the head. The cat instantly falls to its side, swiping its paw at Changbin’s hand playfully.

“At least you’re not alone,” Changbin whispers, still full of worry for his friend.

“I’m close to figuring this out, Changbin. I just know it,” Minho mumbles over the awful sound of him pulling his subject’s heart out of its chest.

Changbin forces himself not to look as the smell of old blood finally overpowers the smell of incense. “Figuring what out?”

Minho drops the swollen heart on the side table and wipes his hands on his apron, walking over to Changbin to kneel down and join him in petting the cat. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips when he finally answers.

“How to bring back the dead, of course.”

* * *

Cheonsa is the first to return. 

There’s fire in her eyes as she storms into the council room, pushing Hangyeol aside to get to Changbin, pulling him off his chair by the collar of his shirt.

Felix is right behind her, holding his hands up in apology, eyes pleading for her to calm down.

“I rode here so fast that my horse died,” she hisses in his face, “and for two days straight all I could think about was punching you. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

Changbin thinks that she has every right to be angry, so he doesn’t let it bother him. Still, he feels small with her towering over him, so he swallows roughly before he says, “Because I’ve been strategizing for the next fight. And I think I’m onto something.”

She drops him at that, turning her attention to what’s on the table. “The harbor?” she asks, eyes quickly scanning the map that he and Hangyeol have been staring at since dawn.

Hangyeol clears his throat. “We have reason to assume the other twin will strike there next, with his fleet.”

Cheonsa shakes her head. “We’ll be outnumbered. We don’t have enough ships, not yet.”

“That’s what I thought as well,” Changbin says, moving the miniature ships on the map to the side so he can add in twenty-six more, carefully placing them on the front line as his sister’s eyes widen, “which is why I called in for some reinforcements.”

She huffs at that. “We have no allies in these waters.” She gestures at the map, a frown on her face, as Felix moves closer to look over her shoulder. “Besides, they wouldn’t even make it past _them_.”

Changbin raises his eyebrows and just stays silent, waiting for the realization to finally hit his older sister. And when it does, the look on her face is something Changbin will never forget.

“You can’t possibly–” She shakes her head. “No, that’s wrong. And dangerous.”

Felix looks between them, an innocent, confused look on his face.

“Whatever it takes to keep the country safe, Cheonsa,” he finally says. “Whatever it takes.”

* * *

Hyunjin finally arrives a few days later.

The news of his return immediately sends a rush of relief through Changbin’s body.

He’d sent him a letter on the day the city was attacked, hoping it would reach him. And luckily, it had.

Changbin wants nothing more than to get out of his meeting and greet his lover, but somehow he finds himself unable to.

Before, he would have taken up any excuse to get out of work, to leave all royal tasks to his councilmen and servants, just so he could get the relaxation he thought he deserved.

But now, things are different. 

The people need him, and more than that, he wants to be involved. There’s so much to do. Ships to build, Cheonsa’s new recruits need to be trained, new weapons need to be forged. And then there’s the whole situation of evacuees from the northern side of town who need a place to live and food on their plates. 

It’s like the whole structure will collapse as soon as he takes one step outside of his tasks as king.

It keeps him up most nights, thinking if there are things he could’ve done better, if there are things he missed. He usually finds himself writing lists under the moonlight now, until his mind finally quiets enough to allow him some sleep.

So with pain in his heart, he asks his servant to tell Hyunjin to wait for him.

Which is why he climbs the stairs to his bedchamber with a heavy heart when he finally retires for the day.

“Only a king would be bold enough to tell a deity to wait,” is how Hyunjin greets him when he pushes the door open.

The words are harsh but his face isn’t. His smile is full of love, dimples in his cheeks, a touch of sadness to his eyes. 

Changbin is in his arms before he even registered that he has crossed the short distance between them.

The spring days have been quickly changing into summer, and yet Changbin hasn’t been able to feel any heat without Hyunjin by his side.

“I missed you,” he whispers into his lover’s chest, “so much.”

“I missed you too,” Hyunjin says, running his fingers over his back, trying to feel all of him at once. He seems to freeze for a second, and adds, “I’m so sorry about Jisung.”

Changbin is glad his face is hidden in Hyunjin’s shirt, because he doesn’t want the other to see the grief on his face. He doesn’t want to deal with that now, doesn’t want to mourn him just yet. Not when his attention is so scrambled. Jisung deserves better than that.

So he just asks, “Have you gone to see Minho?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin chuckles bitterly, “he’s very unwell.”

“That’s what I thought as well.” Changbin moves back to look up at him. “He’ll get better, right?”

Hyunjin nods firmly. “He’s the strongest person I know.”

Changbin buries his face in Hyunjin’s chest again and breathes in deeply, the familiarity of his scent calming him down. Hyunjin smells like the road, like horses, and pine. Safe.

“Did you learn a lot while you were gone?” he asks.

“I did,” Hyunjin says as he moves his hand under Changbin’s shirt, running his nails against his neglected skin, “I actually brought Daehwi back with me.”

Changbin pulls away quickly at the words. That changes everything.

A water deity? Joining them in a fight on the water? Oh, how the odds were stacked in their favor now.

He peels himself off Hyunjin and goes to his desk, pulling out one of his notebooks, finding his battle strategies to make some adjustments. He needs to make some new calculations, and find out just how strong Daehwi is, and where to place him, and–

Hyunjin’s hand on his shoulder is strong as he pulls him away from the desk, turning him to face him. Changbin finds himself caged in, lower back hitting the desk as Hyunjin moves his bangs out of his eyes.

“You look so tired,” Hyunjin notes, moving to take the crown off his head and tossing it next to his notes behind him, “you should take some time to unwind.”

Changbin closes his eyes and shudders at the words. His crown weighs so heavy on his head nowadays, with all the burdens and responsibilities that come along with it. So Hyunjin taking it off of him means more than his lover can probably imagine.

“Your hair is getting so long,” Hyunjin says as he runs his fingers through it, only to finally pull Changbin in for a kiss.

The kiss starts out slow, lazy, and Changbin is grateful for it. Having been apart from his lover for so long, it feels like he needs some time to get used to the gentle touch of his lips again. He’s so quick to overwhelm, after all.

But then Changbin’s hair tickles Hyunjin’s face, causing him to giggle against his lips, and it drives him absolutely fucking crazy. It’s like a switch gets flipped in his head, and before he knows it, he’s leaning down to hook his hands behind Hyunjin’s knees to lift him up. Hyunjin manages to grab onto his neck just in time to not fall down, giggling even louder as Changbin carries him to the bed.

“Since when did you get so strong?” he asks as he tries to catch his breath.

Changbin drops him onto the bed, and watches him bounce on the mattress, somehow still looking graceful during such a clumsy act. “What?” he asks, rolling up his sleeve to flex his arm, “You thought this was all fluff?”

Hyunjin sits up and runs his fingers over Changbin’s arm, tracing his muscles. “Hm, I like it.” Then he leans in to press a quick kiss to his bicep, making it Changbin’s turn to giggle this time.

“Have I said that I missed you?” Changbin asks, again.

“Don’t mind hearing it again,” Hyunjin says, leaning back on his hands on the sheets.

Gently, Changbin pulls at his shoulders to make him fall onto his back again. Hyunjin’s hair spreads out prettily on the pillows, and Changbin is once again reminded of how he has a godly being in his bed, for him to do whatever he wants with.

And there are many things he wants, but for now, just one thing stands out.

“Hyunjin,” he starts placing kisses down his neck, tracing the sparks of magic running under his skin, “I want to taste you.”

Hyunjin hums lazily, bringing his hand to the back of Changbin’s head to pull him in closer. “But you are tasting me.”

Changbin clicks his tongue to fake annoyance, pulling away to look at the crooked grin on his lover’s face.

But two can play this game.

So to prove his point, he boldly puts his hand on the front of Hyunjin’s thin, linen pants, pressing down to emphasize what he means. 

Hyunjin is already half-hard, so he hisses at the touch, hips bucking up to get more friction.

“Can I?” he asks, already knowing the obvious answer to his question.

“Please,” Hyunjin just says, pulling him in for one last kiss. And then another. And another.

Changbin finds himself to be in a bit of a haze when he finally manages to disconnect their lips, and soon all movements blend together. His mind didn’t keep track of how he even took his clothes off, or how he got Hyunjin’s pants off and down his knees. But before he knows it, he’s peppering kisses all over his hip bone.

He follows his skin to his lower stomach, dizzy with how good his lover smells. His pubic hair tickles his nose as he moves down, being ever so gentle with his kisses. Hyunjin’s cock twitches next to his face, but he ignores it. For now.

With his right hand, he urges Hyunjin’s leg up a bit, making him bend his knee and put his foot down on the bed, just so he can get better access. Slowly, he moves down, giving open-mouthed kisses to his lover’s sac. Hyunjin moans lowly as Changbin runs his tongue against the rough, relatively cool skin.

He loves having Hyunjin under him like this, all exposed, allowing him to have his way with him. It makes him seem so fragile, so human. Changbin feels even closer to him when they’re like this. It makes him feel safe, like he can truly be himself, with no one else watching them.

It’s heaven.

Feeling a bit playful, Changbin bares his teeth, nipping down softly on Hyunjin’s most sensitive skin. Hyunjin yelps and brings his knees together, caging Changbin’s head in.

Changbin grins as he looks up at him, pushing Hyunjin’s legs apart easily. With the confidence he gets from having Hyunjin surrendering to him like this, he brings his thumb to his mouth to wet it, and then moves it down to press against Hyunjin’s hole.

Hyunjin jolts, but not in a bad way. He looks down at Changbin with rosy cheeks, a question in his eyes.

“Next time we get some time alone,” Changbin starts, “can I fuck you?”

They’ve never done it like that before, never even talked about it. It was just always the other way around, the way Changbin was used to.

“You want to take my virginity again?” Hyunjin jokes. “How greedy.”

Changbin rests his cheek against Hyunjin’s leg, making his fingers walk on the skin of his stomach, traveling down slowly. “You’d be taking mine as well,” he confesses.

“You’ve never–” 

“Nope,” Changbin says, hiding his blushing face by pressing a kiss to Hyunjin’s thigh. “But I don’t think we should right now, I’m really–”

“Tired,” Hyunjin finishes for him, reaching out his hand for Changbin to take. When he laces their fingers together, he softly rubs his thumb over the top of Changbin’s hand, soothing him. “We can just sleep if you want to,” Hyunjin offers.

“No!” Changbin says a bit too eagerly, letting go of Hyunjin’s hand.

Hyunjin laughs at his enthusiasm, but his laughter stops as soon as Changbin takes his cock in his hand, slowly jerking him off.

He’s not surprised to find that he’s still fully hard.

Unable to hold back any longer, Changbin takes him into his mouth, finally doing what he’s been wanting to do. He should be used to the feeling of Hyunjin on his tongue by now, and yet it feels new every time. So overwhelming, so hot, so good.

Hyunjin sighs from pleasure as Changbin struggles to swallow down all of him. Changbin peeks up through his eyelashes to watch his lover as he bobs up and down, only to find him looking back at him with parted lips, a sheen of sweat already appearing on his forehead.

It’s a lot, but somehow not enough. So Changbin reaches for Hyunjin’s hand, and brings it to his hair, guiding him to hold him tight.

Hyunjin seems hesitant at first, but when he tightens his grip on his hair and Changbin moans in response, he seems to get the message, pulling him down even further onto his cock.

Changbin clenches his jaw to open up his throat, to let more of him in, whining softly as Hyunjin slowly starts fucking his mouth. He’s so deep inside of him, and it feels like he’s everywhere, and yet Changbin still wants more.

He wants to lose control, let go, and just focus on his lover’s pleasure. Forget about his worries, his burdens, forget about everything in the world. Once Hyunjin is done with him he doesn’t even want to remember they’re at war, or all the things he needs to do when he wakes up.

Right now he just wants it to be just them. And nothing else.

He looks up at Hyunjin to urge him on, to let him know that he can take more. 

As always, it’s like Hyunjin can read his intentions, so he gives him exactly what he wants.

Changbin holds onto Hyunjin’s thighs for balance, and the possibility to tap out if it becomes too much. But he doubts that it can ever be too much when he’s with him.

Hyunjin starts fucking up into his mouth properly now, holding him still with his hands. Changbin realizes he can’t breathe when his nose touches Hyunjin’s pubic bone, and it’s dizzying, but absolutely amazing. Hyunjin pulls him off from time to time, so he can take a deep breath, only for him to drag him down and do it all over again.

The sound of Hyunjin’s whiny moans fill the room, bouncing off the walls, surrounding Changbin until that and his raging heartbeat is the only thing he can hear. 

Somewhere along the line, one of Changbin’s hands slipped away from Hyunjin’s thigh to touch himself. He hadn’t even realized he started doing that, until he’s close to coming.

But it’s not his priority right now, because he can tell Hyunjin is close. 

He’s become so accustomed to picking up on the signs, can even feel it in his body now. It’s not only how Hyunjin stops moaning and holding his breath, eyes squeezed shut as he’s on the edge of true pleasure. Changbin can also feel it in the way his body temperature turns inhumanly hot, his magic running in his veins like electricity, sparking wherever Changbin touches him like static.

Finally, Hyunjin pulls him down one more time, spilling down his throat with a long, high-pitched moan. Changbin swallows it gladly, savoring the taste as he jerks himself to completion, messing up the sheets under him. 

Hyunjin finally lets go of his hair and Changbin pulls off. It feels like he’s never breathed air before, lungs feeling heavy and his brain tingling. But it’s a good sensation. He hasn’t felt this calm in a long time.

He climbs over Hyunjin’s body and lets himself drop onto his chest. Hyunjin starts stroking his hair and kisses the top of his head every so often. It’s almost enough to lull him to sleep, but then Hyunjin breaks the silence.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Huh?” Changbin’s sore throat makes his voice break. “For sucking your dick?”

“No, silly.” Hyunjin teasingly pinches his ear. “For all that you’ve been doing since I was gone. It must’ve been hard.”

Changbin heaves a big sigh, snuggling even closer to Hyunjin’s chest. “You have no idea.”

He’s about to suggest that they finally go to sleep, when a harsh knock sounds at the door.

“Your Majesty, a visitor. It’s urgent.”

The guard’s voice is enough for Changbin to scramble for a sheet to cover their bodies, his voice shaky when he asks, “Who is it?”

“The stable boy, your Majesty.”

They both heave a sigh in relief realizing that it’s just Seungmin and not someone they need to hide for. Still, Changbin thinks he should be polite, so he pulls the sheet up all the way to his chest when he calls for Seungmin to enter.

“Your M–” Seungmin says as he walks in, eyes widening when he spots them in bed, and then correcting himself, “Changbin. I came as soon as I could.”

Seungmin stops in front of the bed, an iron tube in his hand. “I was just with Jeongin, he told me to pass you this.”

Changbin tucks the sheet under his armpits to stop it from slipping and takes the tube from Seungmin. He pops the end off easily. It’s his own equipment, after all, the one he put his letter in a couple of days ago.

Luckily, he finds another scroll inside, and he releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. That’s a good sign. It could have been filled with nothing, or worse. 

Hyunjin rests his chin on Changbin’s shoulder, curious about what the paper says.

Changbin reads it, and reads it again. A small smile forming on his lips.

“Good news, I hope?” Seungmin asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

Changbin nods. “Very good, my friend. Thanks for bringing this to me. You can go get some rest now.”

Seungmin leaves them, and Changbin can finally pump his fist into the air, filled with joy.

> _‘We arrive at dawn. You can expect our full cooperation._
> 
> _For the right price, of course._
> 
> _Love, The Captain’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a cameo from another group! the captain, who might that be...
> 
> see you next week!!


	5. The Captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday!
> 
> yes you all guessed it right, it's ateez! don't worry if you don't know anything about them, I've written it in such a way that you don't have to.
> 
> also, there's some gruesome stuff in this chapter, which you might already be used to from me by now. but still, a warning if you have an easily upset stomach or anything of the sorts.
> 
> as always, thank you for the lovely comments <3
> 
> (ps. I've listed in the end notes which character is which ateez member, since I don't mention all of them by name. but maybe if you're an atiny it would be fun to try and figure it out by yourself first!)

“I thought your sister would have liked to be here,” Hangyeol says, kicking a pebble, but a hand on his sword, always on guard.

Changbin holds his sleeve in front of his face, trying to keep the smell of fish out of his nose. “She had other business to attend to.” A fisherman yells a command to his side as he’s untangling a fishing net, completely unaware of the king’s presence in the docks. “Besides, she hates pirates.”

“Don’t we all?” Hangyeol asks, not expecting an answer.

Changbin watches the ship that is docked at the end of the pier, which is probably the reason why no one is noticing him. Every fisherman is anxious with the presence of the pirate ships, despite them sailing under a white flag of peace. 

Just as Changbin expected, there are twenty-six ships, the largest one tied to land with heavy ropes, while the others drift offshore at a safe distance. The white flag is the only flag they carry, and their sails are stained with ominous dark red spots. Changbin convinces himself it’s just dirt, but he knows better.

“It’s almost noon,” Changbin says, squinting his eyes under the high sun, “I’m getting impatient.”

“Well,” Hangyeol says, gesturing at the ship with his head, “let’s not wait any longer and knock on their door.”

Changbin nods, wishing there was a door for him to knock on. But the ship looks uninviting, showing no signs of anyone embarking soon. So, despite his instincts warning him, he approaches the ship, walking to the end of the pier.

Heads turn as he passes, but most don’t seem to recognize him since he’s not wearing his formal attire. Only one young man pauses his disemboweling of a fish to stare at them wide-eyed, but Changbin thinks he’s looking at Hangyeol more than he is looking at him. You don’t see members of the royal guard in the docks often after all.

They come to a halt in front of the ship, and Changbin is about to rake his brain for what to do, when the sound of wood and metal flinching rings through the docks. Slowly, a boardwalk is lowered from the ship, ropes carefully sliding through pulleys at a careful pace, until it drops on the ground with a loud bang.

“Well, that was easy,” Hangyeol notes.

Changbin stares at the steps in front of him and gathers his courage. “Let’s not keep them waiting,” he says as he takes the lead to be the first one to climb onto the planks, the wood sighing under his weight.

As he walks up the steep steps, careful not to slip and embarrass himself, his suspicions get confirmed when the smell of old, dried blood fills his nose. So there’s blood on the sails. Great. 

What he doesn’t expect is to be greeted by a young man with the most excited, innocent smile he’s ever seen.

“Welcome, your Majesty. It’s an honor, it really is!” The boy holds out his hand to help Changbin climb over the edge.

Changbin takes it, because honestly, he’s never met anyone with a less threatening aura than this. Once he’s over the edge, safely on the deck, the boy bows politely, hand on his heart.

Hangyeol jumps over the edge effortlessly, making the deck shake with his landing, and immediately takes his position next to Changbin, hand on his sword, just in case. 

They stand wordlessly for a while, the only sound being metal beating against metal from the other end of the ship, the source of the sound out of sight. Changbin takes in the appearance of the boy in front of him. He’s tall, but obviously young. His clothes are well kept, and his hair is out of his face. He looks excited, giddy, a big, broad smile on his lips.

This cannot be the captain, Changbin thinks to himself.

“Is that the king?!” a high-pitched voice sounds from above, and Changbin finds himself squinting against the sun to see who it is.

There’s a young boy in the crow’s nest, staring back at him wide-eyed. He’s waving at Changbin excitedly, a broad smile on his face. But more interesting than that is his eyes. They’re clouded, a white, foggy sheen over them. It’s only then that Changbin notices that he’s kind of looking past him, not directly at him.

This confuses him. Why would they put someone like him in the crow’s nest? He can’t hide his curiosity, so he asks, “Is he–”

He gets interrupted by a new voice. “He can see more than any of us ever will.”

A man emerges from the ship’s cabin, climbing the stairs slowly. He furrows his strong brows when the sun finally hits his face, the light reflecting off of his bald head. The robes he’s wearing are unfamiliar to Changbin, the burlap looking rough on the man’s lanky body. 

The man regards Changbin with piercing eyes, emanating a certain air of authority and wisdom. 

Changbin swallows, and asks, “Are you the captain?”

The tall boy from earlier snorts, earning an annoyed glance from the man. He cocks his head to the side and looks back at Changbin again, a very faint smile on his lips. “The captain disembarked earlier this morning. I think he’s currently exploring town.”

“But–” Changbin looks between the two, “I was supposed to meet him today.”

“Yes,” the man agrees, “but the day is not over yet.” The man moves to play with the necklace that rests on his chest, finger twisting around what seems to be some kind of bone dangling from the golden chain. “He’ll come to you eventually.”

A group of seagulls pass over them, screeching loudly, and the young man in the crow’s nest waves at them. Changbin watches it happen and feels some form of relief. No matter the awful stories he’s heard, these people seem nice, albeit a little strange.

But when he looks back down, he’s met with dark eyes, the man in front of him suddenly staring at him with an intense face, almost cold. The smile on his lips has turned into a wicked one, sharp canines poking his bottom lip. 

“Trust me,” the man adds, “the captain has been dying to meet you.”

* * *

Changbin hears the sound of fire and metal before he even turns into the hallway that leads to the courtyard. 

He doesn’t really remember if he was looking for Hyunjin, or for his sister, but he happens to find both of them in the same place.

It’s always amazing to see Hyunjin use his powers. The way his pupils go wide, his jaw tense, and how he just seems like the most powerful person in the world when he sets anything in front of him on fire. Changbin is both intimidated, as he is incredibly impressed and in love with it. 

But the feeling of admiration gets replaced by fear when he sees Hyunjin direct his powers towards his sister, burning the side of her leg as she holds him down on the ground, sword pointed at his throat.

“Down boy,” a familiar voice says when Changbin is about to pull his sword to intervene. 

Daehwi appears from the shadows, wooden deck creaking under his feet as he walks up to Changbin, arms folded.

“They’re just practicing,” Daehwi explains as Changbin flinches and looks away when Hyunjin takes a fist to the jaw. He doesn’t see the next part, but he hears his sister scream, the familiar smell of burned flesh penetrating his nose. “Your sister is– really something,” Daehwi says under his breath, not looking away from the spectacle in front of him.

Changbin forces himself to watch, and to his surprise, Hyunjin is back on his feet, hand hovering over the side of Cheonsa’s face. She bites her bottom lip as Hyunjin heals her melted skin, clearly hiding the pain. It must have been bad, if the blood that runs down her neck and into her blouse tells him anything.

“How long have they been at it?” Changbin asks.

“Three hours!” a new voice says.

It’s Felix, in the door opening with a pitcher of ice cold water, drops of condensation rolling off the side. He looks excited about whatever’s going on, not one bit disturbed. With a skip in his step he walks up to the end of the deck, waving to catch the others’ attention.

Cheonsa calls him over, gratefully accepting the water, downing half the pitcher’s content in an instance.

Hyunjin finally looks Changbin’s way. But when their eyes meet, he drops his gaze to the ground.

Huh. Weird.

Maybe he feels bad for fighting his sister? No, that can’t be it. He and Changbin used to spar all the time, back on the island. He knows that there are no hard feelings for anything that happens in a practice fight. So maybe it’s something else?

“He hasn’t been making much progress,” Daehwi answers as if he were reading his mind.

“That’s not what he told me,” Changbin says as he watches Cheonsa pick up her sword again, getting in position for another round.

“People lie,” Daehwi says with a sigh, whistling under his breath as Hyunjin sends a string of fire across the courtyard, missing Cheonsa by a hair's width. “He’s been able to finetune his current magic, but whenever he tries to tap into the Dawn to access his powers… I think there might be some trauma at play here.”

Cheonsa manages to close the distance between her and Hyunjin, just so she can bring down her sword, hard. However, Hyunjin anticipates her move and catches the sword mid-air, the metal melting and bending around his touch. 

This gives Cheonsa enough time to kick him in the balls.

Daehwi and Changbin both hiss as they watch Hyunjin fall to his knees. Felix however, applauds, and picks up a stick to mark down the score in the sand. They’re tied.

Changbin thinks about what Daehwi said. It’s true that Hyunjin might have some trauma linked to going to the other realm, especially since he almost died last time he fully went there. But Daehwi had reassured him that tapping into his powers would be different, way different from having his entire conscience leave the physical plane. 

But still, Changbin wishes Hyunjin would have told him about these fears. There’s no way for him to help with this problem, but the least he can offer is a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. 

Changbin shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He should just trust Hyunjin to trust him. Perhaps he’ll tell him eventually. Or even if he doesn’t, he should try not to be too hurt by it. That would be selfish, and that is the exact opposite of what he can afford to be right now.

“I was hoping you would stick around for a bit,” Changbin says, to change the topic. “Your powers could come in handy.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Daehwi admits with a chuckle.

“Why not?” Changbin turns to look at him, and hopes Daehwi didn’t hear the concern in his voice.

Daehwi scrunches his nose in disgust, and then he answers, “This city stinks.” 

* * *

“So there are units of soldiers dispatched to every northern city, if I understand correctly?” Changbin asks, rubbing at his tired eyes.

“Yes,” his sister answers, moving her finger over the map that’s spread across the council table, “especially here.” She points at the two closest towns to the border with Sinhae. “They report to me if they notice any irregularities. We can’t have anyone slipping past the border again, just in case.”

“What about the rest of the army? How are the new recruits?” Hangyeol asks, pushing a candle closer to get a better view of the map. The moonlight shining in through the window isn’t nearly enough to illuminate everything.

“Your sister is training them.” Cheonsa leans back on her chair and stretches her arms, the sound of her shoulders popping echoing through the room. “I was hoping you would join her, actually.”

Hangyeol huffs a quiet laugh at that. “We’ll see.” Hangyeol's relationship with his sister is only half as complicated as the one Changbin has with his own, but still, he decides it’s better if he stays out of it.

Instead, he thinks it’s time to finally discuss what’s most important. Something they’ve been putting off. But Changbin thinks that with his recent… disappointment with the pirates, it’s time to just come up with their own solutions on what they’re going to be doing with their ships. 

“So, the harbor–” he gets cut off by a curt knock at the door. 

“Yes?” Hangyeol asks.

The door opens, only a little bit, just enough for a young man to stick his head through the opening. He smiles, one eye covered with a white, linen patch. His cheeks are dimpled, but that’s as far as the kindness on his face goes. “Can we come in?” he asks with a slight accent.

Changbin has seen enough in his life by now to recognize someone dangerous. “Where’s the guard?”

“Oh, him?” The man opens the door further to lean on the doorpost with his arms crossed. “I put him to sleep.” His smile is wicked, and Changbin is somehow reminded of the snake he saw in his nightmare many, many nights ago. 

On either side of Changbin, both Cheonsa and Hangyeol reach for their swords. 

“Stop scaring them, will you?” another voice says. A man appears from the dark hallway, his long fur coat so massive that it hits the wooden door frame as he pushes past the other man, squeezing himself inside the council room. 

Two more men follow, and then the snake looking man closes the door behind them.

And locks it.

There are four of them in total. They’re outnumbered.

The only reason Changbin doesn’t piss his pants is the sheer fact that he, Hangyeol, and Cheonsa are some of the most capable fighters in the country. If this goes sideways, the others don’t have a chance. He thinks… 

He hopes.

Changbin clears his throat. “You must be–”

“The captain, yes,” the man–no, captain, finishes for him. One of his men, who’s wearing an outfit that’s oddly similar to their country’s navy uniform, just a little outdated, pulls back the chair at the other end of the table. The captain sits, now at a direct opposite of Changbin. The moon casts a slight shadow over his narrow nose, and large eyes pierce through Changbin’s composure as the captain folds his hands in front of him, waiting for someone else to speak.

The man in the uniform just stands by his side, hands behind his back ever since he walked in, posture straight as most of him is hidden in the shadows. He seems to be the only well-mannered person in their entourage. The fourth man, the tallest among them, circles the table, a heavy axe lying on his shoulder.

Changbin is somehow reminded of children attending a grownup event, not knowing how to act, but also not caring one bit that they’re misbehaving.

The man comes to a halt next to Hangyeol, large figure towering over him. “Nice sword,” he says, voice too loud for the small room, axe swinging to point at Hangyeol’s sword, the gesture alarmingly reckless.

“Nice axe,” Hangyeol answers. Then he turns slightly to look at Changbin, waiting for instructions. 

“You say that now,” the first man says from where he’s leaning against the wall, keeping guard of the door. His one eye squinting at Hangyeol now, a small but dangerous smile jerking at the corner of his lips. “Wait till it cracks open your skull, see how you feel.”

Changbin wants to put a halt to it, before Hangyeol does. Or worse, before Cheonsa snaps. She has stopped moving minutes ago, eyes on the captain like a cat on a mouse.

“I don’t wanna fight him,” the tall one says, resting his axe on his shoulder again. “Wanna fight the godslayer. Where is he?”

“He’s dead,” Changbin says, finally breaking his silence. A small part of him feels pride and joy from the fact that word about Jisung’s achievement had traveled that far, that even complete strangers knew about him. But then he realizes how it all means nothing now that he’s not here to witness it for himself. 

“That fucking sucks,” the tall man says, and despite his word choice, Changbin has to silently agree. Defeated, he pulls out a chair and sits down with a big sigh, slamming down his axe into the table so that it stays standing, sharp edge cleaving the ancient, expensive wood.

“Mingi–” the man in the uniform warns, a strand of his slicked back hair falling in front of his face. Other than that, his composure is still the most uptight thing Changbin has ever seen, arms still rigid behind his back.

“Sorry,” Mingi says, pulling his axe from the table and wiping the splinters into the gap it left, half-heartedly trying to fix it.

Cheonsa finally snaps. Took her long enough, Changbin thinks.

“Let’s cut to the chase, since I don’t wanna be wasting my time with a bunch of murderers,” she spits out the words, voice like venom.

The captain huffs a small laugh. “May I remind you that we haven’t had your nation’s blood on our hands for the past five years?”

“Unfortunately,” the man by the door adds.

That remark makes Cheonsa reach for her sword again, but Changbin puts his hand on hers, stopping her. The captain is right, after all. He does not know the reason for the unspoken truce, but it’s apparently been years since the pirates have done anything other than looting.

“Besides,” the captain unfolds his hands, his short fingers covered by a large variety of expensive looking rings, the light reflecting off them casting a colorful illusion on the ceiling, “we’re here to do you a favor, not the other way around.”

“That’s right,” Changbin says, hand still on his sister, not sure if he can trust her to hold back yet, “and we’re very grateful that you came to meet us.” Then, with a smile that he hopes will be perceived in the way he means it; kind and playful, “Too bad we had to wait for you guys all day.”

“Well,” the captain runs a hand through his long hair, combing it to fall over his shoulder where it blends in with the grey fur of his coat, “it’s a city of many pleasures after all.” He cocks his head to the side and winks at Changbin.

Mingi leans all the way over the table, getting into Hangyeol’s personal space to loudly whisper at Changbin, “He means whores.”

Changbin nods slowly. “I got that. Thank you.” 

“But you’re right, let’s keep this short.” The captain tries to get a knot out of his hair with his long pinky nail, seemingly not as tense as Changbin feels. “All of our ships, all of my men, they’re yours.” Then, his eyes snap up. “With some conditions.”

“Of course,” Changbin says, gesturing for Hangyeol to grab some paper and ink. Changbin might be a rookie, but he knows not to get into any agreement without a contract. Even when it’s pirates he’s dealing with. 

The captain lays his hand down on the table, the sound of silver and gold hitting wood ringing through the room. “First, we want to be pardoned for our crimes.”

“No,” Cheonsa says. 

“Yes,” Changbin corrects. “Write that down, Hangyeol.”

He raises two fingers in the air, counting, “Second, we want to be able to freely trade our goods in this country.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Cheonsa whispers under her breath.

“A valid request,” Changbin says, slightly relieved with how reasonable they are. “I’ll see to it.”

“Third,” the captain turns a bit in his chair, gesturing to the man still dutifully standing beside him. “I want him to have his title of navy commander restored, and all the–” he waves his hand a bit, trying to find the word, “privileges that come along with it.”

Changbin sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, considering it. “Your name?” he asks.

The man finally takes his right arm from behind his back. At least, where there should have been an arm. Changbin can’t really see where his arm stops, the cut-off point hidden by the tattered sleeve of the uniform. But what he _can_ see is what they replaced it with. A beautiful, dark wooden crossbow, apparently attached to his joint with the way it moves like a normal lower arm would. The man puts the weapon over his heart, and bows deeply. “Park Seonghwa, your Majesty.”

“A mutineer,” Cheonsa says knowingly. “You’re wanted. I could take your head right here, right now.”

“And that’s exactly what we don’t want.” The captain raises his brows, looking at Changbin. “Well?”

He doesn’t have to think long. “Nice to meet you, commander Park.” 

The man’s shoulders straighten, carrying himself with a little more pride than before, until he bows again, this time as a thank you. 

“Captain,” the man by the door starts, this time with his eye on Cheonsa, “can one request to take this beautiful, fierce woman out for a meal?”

“Not if you want your lover to take your other eye as well, San,” the captain says before either Cheonsa or Changbin can tell him off. 

The man watches his sister for a few more moments, but then drops his gaze. “Shame.” 

“Don’t mind him,” the captain says. “Our last request should be quite simple, the least amount of paperwork actually.”

Changbin sighs in relief. Their demands up until now indeed required a lot of paperwork, and even more explaining to the rest of the council who had already retired for the night. Not that those old men have anything to say about the matter, but Changbin needs to keep them informed regardless. And also his mother, he should not forget to–

“We want the dragon.”

“No.” Changbin doesn’t even think, doesn’t even process. The word is out before any of that. 

“Oh?” The captain raises an eyebrow, an entertained smile on his lips. “Then I guess the deal is off.” 

Panic settles in Changbin’s stomach. They’ve come so far, so close. He literally invited the enemy into his home to save his country. And yet he cannot imagine handing Geom over. Hell, the beast isn’t even his to give. And even if Hyunjin or Minho agreed, the dragon feels like family to Changbin now. 

But is it worth risking it all? He’s already lost a loved one, so maybe…

“Well,” the captain then says suddenly, “there might be other ways.” He smiles, this time with his teeth, the moonlight reflecting off a sharpened ruby, the gemstone placed into his gums where a canine used to be. “See, we’re quite poor, so maybe you can compensate us in some other way…”

Changbin swallows, already knowing it’s going to be bad.

* * *

All he wants to do is sleep. He has no other way to deal with the fact that he’s just signed a contract in blood with some pirates that is going to cost him at least a quarter of the gold that’s hidden in the palace’s safe. On top of that, he’s pretty sure his sister won’t look him in the eye for a whole week, but it’s worth it.

He pinches the palm of his hand where a fresh bandage sits, soaking up the blood from the wound that helped him close the deal.

Yes, he decides. It’s worth it.

But right now he can’t wait to just dive into his bed and curl up to Hyunjin’s backside, forget all about this tense evening. However, what he doesn’t expect is to find a note on his covers, written in Hyunjin’s neat handwriting, informing him he’ll be staying with Minho for the night, since he’s worried about his friend.

He traces the letters on the rough paper and frowns, a bit disappointed that Hyunjin didn’t tell him face to face, especially since they left things on an uncomfortable note this morning, when his lover was sparring with Cheonsa. But then again, Hyunjin’s concern for his friends is what Changbin loves so dearly about him, so he figures he just has to suck it up for now. 

Now he’s just restless, nerves licking at every muscle in his body. If he feels like this, there’s just no way that he’s going to be able to sleep anytime soon. So he decides, that despite his eyelids leaning heavily on his sight, it might be a good idea to get some fresh air, to force his body to agree with his mind.

Besides, seeing the stars in the night sky always calmed him down. 

So he finds his familiar way up the winding stairs that lead to the roof. Even though the days are slowly turning into summer, the night air is still crisp and humid, the cold sticking to his skin once he pushes the final door open.

Lucky for him, it’s a clear night, barely any clouds in the sky, showing him all the stars he can possibly see with his naked eye. 

Normally, he’d sit by the northern edge of the roof, alternate between looking at that one bright star twinkling at him, and looking down at the city, illuminated by the moon shining behind him.

But now, he can’t stand to look in the northern direction, for obvious reasons.

So instead he turns to the other side, where a shadowed figure is already leaning over the ledge of the roof, identity hidden by the waxing moon blinding Changbin momentarily.

“Funny how I run into you every time I wish to be alone,” Changbin says, crossing the distance between them.

“You don’t seem to be laughing,” Chan jokes, turning with a grin. 

“I don’t laugh that often nowadays.” Changbin leans over the edge next to him, staring at the outskirts of town, where houses slowly change into farm fields, and then into nothingness. 

“You should, it looks good on you.” Chan has an eyebrow raised as a challenge.

Changbin knocks him in the shoulder, somehow feeling a bit less tense already. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to court me,” he says, with the smallest smile.

“And have Hyunjin burn me alive? I would never.” A cold breeze picks up, moving through Chan’s curls, making them dance in the wind. “That reminds me, is your sister in a relationship? Or looking to be?”

Changbin huffs at that, baffled by his question. “Chan, you’re lucky I don’t have my sword on me right now.”

Chan turns to face him. His eyes are so dark, even under the moonlight, and Changbin finds himself grappled by them, looking for the place where his pupil stops and iris begins. The other has a smile on his lip, but the rest of his face doesn’t match his expression.

“Oh, Changbin, however much I’d be honored to die on your sword, today is not that day.” 

He holds his gaze for a while, but then finally his eyes crinkle up, matching his smile, until he laughs loudly, shoulders shaking.

“I’m fucking with you,” Chan says through laughter, taking his turn to slap Changbin’s shoulder, “besides, wasn’t asking for me.”

Changbin sighs, rubbing at the goosebumps on his arms to make them go away. “Felix?” he asks, and Chan nods. That makes more sense.

He’d seen the signs, of course. They’re hard to miss. Felix follows his sister around like a shadow, watching her with eyes that marvel at the simplest things she does. Changbin even gets the idea that the feeling might be mutual. Never has he seen his sister so gentle with someone, so quiet and kind. It’s almost like Felix brings out a secret side of her. Changbin has a feeling the kid does that to most people.

And yet he cannot explain it, what might attract one to the other, and the other way around. But he finds that it doesn’t matter. Love is just like that, creeps up on you without reason, crawls into the crevices of your soul like honey, leaving its sticky traces even when you try to wipe it clean. So, perhaps, it does not need to be explained. It exists, and is therefore valid.

“I wouldn’t mind welcoming him into my family,” is what he settles on, and Chan hums heartily. “It’s a good thing my father’s not here anymore,” he adds, “I don’t think he would approve.”

“Oh my,” Chan looks away, focusing on picking at a piece of moss on the roof’s balustrade, “I know a thing or two about that.”

“Oh yeah?” Changbin leans on his hand, trying not to sound too interested. Truth be told he’s dying to know all about Chan, where he’s from, why he’s so weird, why he gives him strange vibes. But he thinks that pushing him will only make him more cryptic, so perhaps feigning disinterest might–

“Well, my father,” Chan starts.

Changbin has to hide his pleased smile behind his hand. 

“He’s quite stubborn, judgemental… prideful.” Chan swallows dryly. “And just awful.”

“Sounds familiar.” Changbin peers at the view, not wanting to show his face, just in case. This has always been a harsh topic for him, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to show Chan that much of himself just yet. “When’s the last time you’ve seen him?” he asks, voice almost getting lost in the night’s breeze.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Chan answers. “I miss him. At least, I think I do.”

Changbin processes that, and thinks about his own father. Despite hating him while he was still alive… does he miss him? He doesn’t know, but he does miss his existence, and how Changbin didn’t have to worry about ruling the country when he was still alive. But he can’t bring him back from the dead, and wouldn’t even if he could. So he asks, “What’s stopping you from going home?”

“I was banished,” Chan says it like the words don’t carry the weight they do. “I cannot return until I do something that makes him proud.”

Changbin feels like he needs to say something, but he can’t. On one hand he wants to comfort Chan, since he knows exactly what that’s like, how it feels to not be good enough for your parent, how unloved it makes you feel, how you always put their opinions first instead of thinking for yourself.

But it’s not his place to think he can give any guidance, any words of comfort, since he himself has never been able to conquer it. He’s never proved his father wrong, never shown his worth, never demonstrated how capable he actually can be. 

The old king is dead, and the new one is a coward pretending he’s anything but. 

He turns to Chan, hoping to find something to say on his face, but instead, he’s just in time to see a loose tile fly through the air, one that Geom broke last year when they landed on the roof in a rush. It hits Chan right in the back of the head, his body slumping down against the edge of the roof almost instantly. 

Oh.

After that, everything moves too fast. He half registers the attacker come up to his side, a mask covering most of his face, until he pulls a burlap sack over Changbin’s head, pulling the cords tight around his neck so that his panicked hands can’t get it off.

And just like that, again, Changbin is back in the forest, many moons ago, listening to the sound of fire raging, men dying, but worst of all, a sharp blade on his neck.

He’s on the ground, he can feel the gravel and tiles under his behind. The man has wrestled him down, somehow, Changbin doesn’t remember. Everything’s vague, twisted, memories mixing with the present. Is that the smell of people burning? Or is it just the rough material of the bag pressing against his mouth, filtering every breath he takes.

The feeling of the blade against his neck brings him back to reality, and somehow he manages to trump his panic and grab at the man’s arms. 

His hands slip. What is that? Blood? Water? Oil?

There’s words being spoken to him, but he can’t hear them, not over the rush of blood in his ears. It sounds like waves. He misses the island.

Then the heat of the body behind him is gone, and he has to catch himself on his hands not to fall completely to the ground. A cold breeze passes through the loose threads of the sack around his head and it somehow clears his ears, making him hear the scuffling, the sound of feet struggling to stay in one place on the roof.

Changbin pulls at the fabric covering his head, hooking his fingers under where it’s most tight, on his neck, and he manages to tear through it easily now that he’s not in direct danger anymore. 

Now he can see.

He really wishes he couldn’t.

The moon shining behind Chan casts his silhouette, almost like a halo, as he has Changbin’s assailant by his neck, kneeling down.

His mask is off, and his eyes are on Changbin, pleading. He doesn’t recognize the man’s face, but now he thinks he will never forget.

A twisted feeling flowers in his stomach, telling him that he doesn’t want whatever happens next to happen. He wants to tell Chan to stop, but it’s too late.

His attacker’s eyes become cloudy, even in the dark Changbin can see this much. He stops squirming under Chan’s hand on his neck, but he is still alive. Changbin can feel it.

Suddenly, the man stiffens as if he’s shocked, frozen even. Changbin can see the terror in his eyes as he tries to move, but is unable to. Then, his face swells, impossibly so. It looks like he would be able to move again at this point, but it’s useless. His hands drop to his sides, skin also swelling, until his knuckles are invisible under his bulging skin.

Changbin doesn’t know if it’s the smell or the color he notices first. The man’s skin changes from pale to something twisted, a sick orange mixing with yellow around his joints as his body bloats even more. But that’s nothing compared to the smell. It’s wrong, alarming, causing Changbin’s dinner to sit uncertain in his stomach.

It’s the smell of rotten flesh.

He wants to yell at Chan to stop whatever fucked up magic trick he’s performing, but he knows that as soon as he opens his mouth, he’ll be vomiting all over himself.

So he does all he can manage, and looks away, casting his eyes to the ground, a hand covering his mouth and nose to keep the smell out.

An awful hissing sound, so fucking awful that he knows he’ll never unhear it. And then, a dark fluid leaking onto the ground, creeping closer until it’s within Changbin’s line of sight.

So of course he throws up, his stomach contents camouflaging the dissolved human tissue that escaped his assassin’s body, the warm liquid splattering from the ground as it mixes with the cold.

Chan pulls his hand back and whatever’s left of the man’s body drops to the side, skin like leather and eyeballs oozing out like jelly.

He knows Chan just saved his life, and yet he still flinches when he tries to help him up, has to look away even when his eyes fall on the other’s kind smile. How can he even smile like that after taking someone’s life so cruelly?

“Sorry you had to see that,” he whispers. 

But Changbin ignores it, feeling like he’s in a dream. 

He stands, all by himself, legs wobbly as he wipes his hands on his pants.

The sack that was pulled over his head earlier lies on the ground, torn in half, defeated, like it was nothing. Just like his attacker’s body.

And yet the colors of the Sinhaean flag are so obvious on the fabric under the moonlight.

He really thought he was one step ahead of them.

He was so wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i have an entire ateez spin off already written in my head, and who knows, maybe some day I'll write it!
> 
> see you next friday with a big and exciting chapter!
> 
> (as promised, who is who!)
> 
> hongjoong - the captain  
> seonghwa - the commander  
> yunho - the first person changbin meets on the ship  
> yeosang - the bald priest (sorry for your hair yeosang...)  
> san - man with the eyepatch  
> mingi - man with the axe  
> wooyoung - man in the crow's nest  
> jongho - will be there next week!


	6. Waves of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can imagine how excited I am about this chapter title!!
> 
> I wanted to take a moment here to thank everyone who's reading this story. seeing a comment on this truly makes my day and makes it so much more fun to write! but I also wanna thank the people who leave kudos, and the silent readers, I love you all <333
> 
> also head's up, there's some eye trauma stuff and lots of fighting in this chapter, so be prepared for that!

  
  


It’s one thing to have a crisis meeting with the entire council in the middle of the night to discuss the assassination that was just attempted on you.

It’s a whole other thing to be pulled out of that same meeting to hear that your lover has gravely injured the foreign prince that you have imprisoned in your dungeon.

He finds Hyunjin inside the guard’s headquarters, sitting on a bench, arms resting on his knees and head hung low, eyes downcasted like a chastised child. Next to him sits Minho, rubbing his hand over Hyunjin’s back in circles.

No one is detaining them, but still, all the guards in the room are on edge, uncertain of what to do. Changbin can’t blame them, since Hyunjin’s status is quite ambiguous amongst the staff, and yet he’s still committed a crime.

With a quick wave of his hand, Changbin dismisses the guards that crowd around them. Even as they file out of the room, Hyunjin doesn’t look up.

“Let me just put it out there,” Minho says once they’re alone, “that even though I tried to stop him, I still support Hyunjin for what he did.”

Changbin’s eyes are just glued to the crown of Hyunjin’s head. “And what is it exactly that he did to the Sinhaean prince?”

“Burned him,” Minho raises a hand and taps his cheek, and then he gestures to his right eye and side of his mouth, “most of his face.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders start to shake.

The thought of that, of Hyunjin doing that… Changbin can’t even imagine it, him hurting someone so bad in a situation where it’s not self-defense. It makes for an uncomfortable feeling in his empty stomach, something close to fear, uncertainty. Suddenly it feels like he doesn’t know Hyunjin at all. It makes him hesitate before asking, “Minho, can you leave us, please?”

Their friend gets up, but not before teasingly pulling at Hyunjin’s ear first. The gesture is so out of place in the current situation, that Changbin frowns. There’s something intimate about Minho and Hyunjin’s friendship, something so deep, something he thinks is very close to what he and Jisung once had. 

The type of friendship where you’d distract the guards so your friend could burn someone’s face off, no questions asked.

Minho leaves them be, and all there’s left is the sound of Hyunjin softly crying. It’s one of those rare moments where Changbin prefers silence. Anything is better than this.

“Why–”

“You know why.” Hyunjin finally looks up at him, eyes red, with an unfamiliar, angry glare to them.

Changbin almost takes a step back at that.

He’s seen Hyunjin angry before, had those looks often directed at him when they were still on the island. But that was when Hyunjin was still so cold, so distant. Before he allowed him into his heart and warmed up to him, in every way possible. But this look in his eyes is new. Aside from angry, his eyes look hurt, and confused, like he hasn’t decided which emotion to focus on right now.

“Had to overhear a guard talking to find out about the assassin,” Hyunjin explains when Changbin doesn’t respond. “I didn’t think, I–” He looks back down to his knees. A tear rolls off his cheek, Changbin follows it with his eyes as it drops to the floor, leaving a dark spot on the bare rock.

Changbin is somewhere on a crossroad between disbelief and anger. “So you just– what? Avenged me, or something? Why didn’t you come to me?”

“You were busy!” Hyunjin spits out, voice loud. Changbin doesn’t miss the blame in his words. “And I said I didn’t think, I– I couldn’t fucking think, Bin, I–” he chokes on a breath, a sob leaving his throat as he brings the palms of his hands to his eyes and presses them down, almost like he’s trying to push his tears back inside. 

On instinct, Changbin moves forward and drops to his knees, grabbing at Hyunjin to take his hands into his own. In the back of his mind, a voice yells at him, telling him those are the hands that have just almost killed his most important political pawn in this war, and have basically put the entire country at risk by chasing an emotional whim. But Changbin can’t help himself, not when his lover is crying like this.

Hyunjin’s hands shake in his, as he slowly pulls them away from his wet eyes. And yet, he can’t find any words to comfort him. But he doesn’t have to, because Hyunjin continues.

“Either I think too much and I can’t even get my fucking powers to work,” he sniffs, “or I don’t even think at all and hurt someone.” Hyunjin finally looks at him again, eyes shaky and bottom lip swollen from biting it. “I’m a failure. You deserve better.”

Those last words hurt more than everything that has happened tonight combined, especially since Hyunjin says them like he means it. “Stop that,” Changbin says as he brings a hand up to wipe a stray tear from his lover’s cheek, and then he wipes at his face some more to somehow rub his love into his skin, to make him feel what he feels. “If you’re a failure, then what does that make me?” he asks, voice almost cracking as he raises it in question. “That just means we’re a perfect fit.

This makes Hyunjin laugh quietly. Then, he leans into Changbin’s hand on his cheek, the hand that’s still bandaged from his contract with the pirates, dirtied by his own blood and gravel from the roof. Hyunjin slowly closes his eyes to feel it better. As he does, another tear escapes his lashes, but it’s okay. Changbin catches it. 

Softly, almost like a whisper, Hyunjin says, “I just want to be useful to you, to help you.”

Changbin huffs through his nose at that. “Silly. You already save my life every day by existing.”

Hyunjin’s eyes spring open and find him, locking in on his gaze. He looks shocked, confused. And then, for a short moment, so short that Changbin would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the way Hyunjin’s skin heats up to an almost painful temperature under his touch, anger. 

But then, Hyunjin’s lips thin into a tight, almost polite smile, dimple forming only in one cheek. His eyes soften in defeat.

Changbin doesn’t know what it means, but he’s almost scared to ask, scared to push and find out something he might not want to know. So it’s with a knot in his heart that he pulls Hyunjin up from where he’s sitting, and slowly takes him to their bedroom.

Once he has Hyunjin tucked into bed, he waits until he starts snoring. Knowing that Hyunjin is now asleep, and is almost impossible to wake, Changbin climbs out of the bed. He just can’t make himself stay. Seeing Hyunjin’s sleeping figure, watching his side rise with each deep breath, makes him nervous.

He’s lost in thought as he climbs down the stairs in his nightwear, a candle held out in front of him now that the whole palace is asleep. The sun will be rising soon, putting an end to the darkness, and making it so that he’s gone a whole night without closing his eyes. But that’s alright, he thinks, since he has his reasons.

It’s just impossible to shake the feeling from earlier, the thought that Hyunjin might be hiding some of his feelings from him. It makes him feel like there’s distance between them. And the distance hurts even more when he’s physically close to him, like it’s mocking him to his face, showing him the painful irony of it. It’s like holding your frozen hands to a fire, but not being able to feel the warmth, only the painful sting.

He finds himself at the bottom of the final stairs, in the basement. To his left is the hallway that leads to Minho’s living space, and to the dungeons. So he goes right.

This was one of the first things Hyunjin did after arriving in the capital. It took a whole month for the builders to rework this room into something that looks like the one back at the island, but they did a pretty decent job. All that Hyunjin had to do was use his powers to find a hot spring, and call the warm water to the surface, filling the baths that the builders had so beautifully crafted for him.

Changbin still doesn’t understand how it was possible, but he’s forever grateful for it. The baths are always hot, the room steamed up to the low ceiling. And when he breathes in the steam, he feels clean and safe, like he’s back at the island, sharing a bath with Hyunjin when everything between them was still so fragile.

Not many people use the baths, especially not at this hour, so Changbin is more than surprised to see a figure through the steam when he walks into the room.

“Sorry,” he says as he sees the person wrap a large towel around their body through his limited vision.

“That’s alright,” a familiar voice says, followed by a kind laugh, “I was just leaving.” 

Felix comes into sight, hair damp and sticking to his flushed, freckled cheeks. There are dark circles under his eyes, which is unlike him. But if he’s tired, it doesn’t show in his demeanor. He’s as bright and welcoming as always.

“Actually,” Changbin starts, quickly pulling his shirt over his head, “do you mind sticking around? I could use a listening ear,” he admits. 

Felix, albeit surprised, still nods. “Sure!”

For once, Changbin takes his time to fold his shirt and puts it in the rack by the wall, where it’s supposed to be. He thinks that without realizing it, over time, he accidentally started trusting Felix. And it’s a happy accident in his opinion, especially if his hunch about Felix and his sister is correct. There’s just something about Felix that makes him feel like he’s known him all his life, like he would fit right in with what he considers to be his family. And maybe one day he will.

From the corner of his eye he spots Felix trying to put on a bathrobe without dropping his towel, careful not to show anything of his naked body. “Shy?” Changbin asks, a little amused, as he pulls down his own pants.

Felix’ shoulders tense, but only for the shortest moment. Then he relaxes and turns to him, an audacious grin on his face. “Well, I wouldn’t want to humble the king,” his eyes drop below Changbin’s waist to point out what he means.

Changbin covers himself on instinct, but still, he laughs. “I’ll have you kicked out of the palace, Felix,” he jokes, trying to sound serious, but the way Felix just raises his eyebrows at him in challenge only makes him crack up again. 

God, he’s missed joking around like this.

He misses Jisung.

Quickly, he pushes the thought away as he crosses the room and steps into the bath, lowering himself in the hot water faster than his body can handle. But it’s nice. He loves the heat. 

Felix sits himself on the edge next to him, dropping his feet into the water, unbothered by the temperature. They sit in silence like that for a while, Felix waiting patiently as Changbin sorts his thoughts. 

He goes over everything that has happened throughout the night, from his meeting with the captain, to the roof, and then Hyunjin. Slowly, he lowers himself further into the water, the long hair in his neck getting wet and messily sticking to his skin. Eventually, he settles on what he thinks is the general thing he has decided on, a decision formed by the accumulation of disaster.

“I don’t want Hyunjin to be part of this war,” he finally admits, his voice echoing through the room.

All Felix does is hum, no judgment in the sound, only urging Changbin to elaborate. So he does.

“I think he’ll do something reckless to protect me.” As he says the words, he almost flinches at them. It sounds arrogant, almost like he’s expecting his lover to save his life, like he’d risk his own for him. But the thing is– that it has happened before. 

The memory of Hyunjin’s cold body in his arms, of their time with the Northern deity, is still so fresh in his memory. 

“You think he’ll stay out of it if you ask him?” Felix moves his feet around, creating small waves in the bath, steam drifting up. “I haven’t known Hyunjin for long, but I know he’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Changbin sighs at that, because it’s so true. 

That’s what he loves about him. His determination, unwillingness to give up on something he believes in. Once he makes up his mind, there’s no way to change it. Changbin could laugh about it when they had simple disagreements, like what the color theme for the new festival should be, or if they should eat duck or fish for dinner. He’d pretend to disagree, just so he could see Hyunjin’s annoyed face, how he scrunched up his nose and rolled his eyes, which he thought was quite cute. And then he would just give in and agree, ready to see his lover’s beautiful smile.

Changbin has the feeling that it won’t be that easy this time.

“If he loves me the way I love him, I’m sure he’ll listen,” he says, and then dips his head underwater, just to clear his mind a bit. Exhaling harshly from his nose to keep the water out, he resurfaces. 

He shakes his head, his wet hair splashing water onto Felix, who holds up his hands in defense. Felix giggles, and the sound is so honest, so sweet, that Changbin forgets about his reservations for a second. And a second is enough for him to admit, 

“Felix… sometimes I fear I love him _too_ much.”

His friend’s giggles die down at that. He thinks about it for a while, leaning back on his hands while peering up at the low ceiling through the steam. When he decides on an answer, he clicks his tongue, and says, “Love is scary like that, isn’t it?” 

Changbin looks up at him and catches a small, knowing smile.

“It’s almost like magic,” Felix continues, “you can’t see it, but you know it’s there, because you see the things it creates.” He raises a finger and Changbin just watches silently, holding his breath. “A heart that’s beating out of your chest, your mind only thinking about one person, the warmth it brings into your life.” 

Steam seems to gather around Felix’ finger, until it slowly turns gold, like the mist on a spring morning. Changbin squints his eyes and leans in, feeling gravitated towards it. It’s almost like the waterdrops glisten in the air, sparkling like diamonds. Felix circles his finger in the air and the drops turn dark red, like blood. “And then there’s the fear of losing it.” 

The water, or blood, piles together into liquid that Felix catches with his palm. A small pool lies in his hand, rippling, until suddenly it turns silver. Changbin moves closer and sees himself in it, like it’s a mirror. “I don’t think you can love someone _too_ much, Changbin,” Felix whispers as Changbin studies his own face in the reflection. 

Then, he adds, “It’s all about _how_ you love someone.”

* * *

Waiting is the worst part.

Two weeks pass since the incident, and every night Changbin can still smell rotting flesh in his dreams. 

And it doesn’t help that he’s sleeping alone nowadays, bed cold even as the nights start to carry the heat of the summer days.

Changbin told Hyunjin about his decision not long after he made it, kindly asking him to stay out of whatever upcoming battle they might have. He expected tears, maybe some words, some yelling. But he received none of those things. Instead, Hyunjin just huffed a short laugh, bitter and knowing, like he was expecting it already. 

He feels like they should talk about it, but Changbin doesn’t know how to admit to his fears. And even if he did, Hyunjin doesn’t even give him the chance to talk. His lover just locks himself up in Minho’s living quarters, helping him with whatever he might be working on in secret now. 

Changbin is torn. On one hand he desperately wants to give in and apologize, and tell Hyunjin that he can do whatever he wants, join their fight, put his powers to use to protect the country. But on the other hand, Changbin knows better. He’s seen how unstable his lover has become, crumpling under the stress he’s put on himself, trying to live up to the expectations he has for himself. Him attacking the Sinhaean prince being the prime example of that. 

And he truly wants to give Hyunjin the emotional support he so desperately needs, but he can’t. There are too many other things to worry about, bigger problems. If you told Changbin months ago that he would be prioritizing anything at all over Hyunjin, he would’ve laughed at your face. Now, it’s his sad reality. 

The only thing he can do for Hyunjin now is making sure he’s safe. 

After losing Jisung, Changbin doesn’t think he can handle another loss. His best friend’s death is still an unprocessed pain, like a festering wound right in his chest that he refuses to treat. 

And now all he can do is wait for something, _anything_ to happen. The anticipation of a battle, the possibility of full-blown war is eating away at him. He can’t sleep at night, his nails are chewed down to the flesh, and he has a weird rash in his neck that flares up every time he worries, which unfortunately is all the fucking time. Somehow he almost finds himself wishing that the Sinhaean army would just attack already. Anything is better than living in uncertainty.

It’s even noticeable in the streets. The people are anxious, waiting for something too. No one is making any attempts to move back into the burned part of town, or to rebuild the bridges to cross the wide river. Instead, people just stock up on food and stay off the streets, while others resort to drinking and gambling in the underground dens. Changbin thinks he should allow that last part for now. At least it’s better than having the people knock on his door for answers.

Meanwhile, Cheonsa even wants to plan an attack on some border towns, as retaliation, just to make a statement. But Changbin is against it. More than anything, he just wants to keep the peace for as long as he can. 

So now, he just waits.

Waits with his body shivering from the cold.

Tonight it’s worse than ever, cold sweat on his back as his whole body shakes from it. It almost feels like he has a fever, if he didn’t know any better. He gives up on sleep and climbs out of bed in search of something to warm him up. There’s an easy way to fix this, and it’s just to give Hyunjin what he wants, and talk to him. But the fear of making things worse stops him from doing so. 

So he goes outside, silently sneaking into the courtyard, careful not to alarm the guards. Once he crosses the courtyard, he quietly pushes open the heavy wooden door that leads to the stables. Miraculously, the horses don’t wake as he sneaks by, not even Hwan, who should be able to recognize his footsteps by now.

He climbs over a pile of hay and finds the secret exit out of the stable, and into the private area where Geom is sleeping.

The dragon lies on barren ground, which he prefers nowadays, dust blowing up with the sheer force of his snores. 

Only Seungmin’s cabin has its sights on this area. Aside from that, it’s hidden behind walls, and under the shadow of the palace. Changbin peers through Seungmin’s window and finds what he already expected, that he’s out for the night. That has been happening a lot lately.

Geom startles when Changbin wakes him, petting the rough skin of his nose, sliding his hand over the warm, almost bone-like part of his snout that forms into a point at the tip, like a small horn. The dragon lifts his head and cocks it to the side, confused to see Changbin at this hour.

“Will you let me sleep here, Geomie?” he whispers, scratching at a piece of stuck shed on the side of his cheek.

Geom’s hind leg comes up, scratching at the phantom feeling of Changbin itching him, almost like a dog. Changbin chuckles and takes it as a yes. 

He climbs over his front leg and decides that the side of the dragon’s stomach looks inviting enough. So he slides down to the ground and rests his side against Geom. His scales feel a bit rough, hard and protruding, but he’s so, so warm. The heat radiates even through his thick skin, and it’s just so familiar, so nice. Finally, Changbin can feel his body warm up again.

The rise and fall of Geom’s stomach is what rocks him to sleep, and he would’ve probably slept through the whole night, if it weren’t for another body pressing against his back a few hours later.

He grumbles a bit, trying to turn and see who it is, but an arm is wrapped around his stomach, keeping him in place. “Don’t say anything. I’m still mad at you,” Hyunjin whispers behind him.

Changbin huffs at that, but there’s a small smile on his lips.

“I’m just here because Minho’s cat keeps biting me,” Hyunjin adds, disproving his point by pressing a quick kiss to Changbin’s nape.

Apparently, not even a dragon can compare to Hyunjin’s heat, because right now, with his body pressed to his, Changbin even feels warm in his heart. And then, he feels the shape of the dragon pendant on Hyunjin’s necklace press into the skin between his shoulder blades as he pulls him impossibly close.

It’s one of those rare moments, where he feels like there’s nothing wrong with the world. Because how can it be anything but right, when he and Hyunjin exist in the same time and space. 

He falls asleep in his arms, and it would’ve been wonderful, if he weren't woken up by the now familiar sound of drums, right at dawn. 

* * *

“If I throw up one more time,” his sister wipes her forehead, and leans over the edge of the ship again, “I’m stealing your fucking dragon and burning all of their goddamn ships down.”

Changbin has his hand on his sword, the only thing steady about him while it feels the whole world is swaying under him. “I told you, we can’t depend on Geom this time. Last time we did–”

“Yeah, yeah, he almost died.” Cheonsa stares over the edge into the river, sunburn on her cheek, “I just hate waiting,” she admits.

“Don’t we all?” he says, and if he weren’t so tense, he would’ve laughed at the way his sister’s face turns green again with another wave passing under them. No one in their family is particularly good with ships, which is why their great-grandfather cut down on foreign trade and conquering distant lands.

Which is also why they have such a small fleet now, and have to depend on a bunch of pirates to get them out of this fucking situation. 

When Changbin woke up to the sound of drums earlier this morning, it was like waking up from a pleasant dream into an actual nightmare. Within minutes he found his way to the council room, Hyunjin trailing quickly behind him, to get updated on the situation.

The good news was that he had been right all along, the Sinhaean army’s next move was indeed an attack on the water. The bad news was that they were outnumbered. But Changbin did what he had to. He had all the people living by the coast evacuated, and his soldiers loaded onto his own ships to mix in with those of the pirates.

Which is how they ended up where they currently are, anchored in the river, just shy of where the river meets the sea, caved in but protected by the riverbeds on either side. It feels like they’re trapped, stuck with over sixty, large ships facing them on the horizon, drums booming, but he has to trust the pirate captain’s word that this is the best way to go.

The enemy’s ships are impressive, the biggest ships Changbin has ever seen in his life. They’re durable, equipped with the latest weaponry, and Changbin now realizes his tiny fleet would never last in a battle on open sea. Their own ships are smaller, made for trade and travel, their only power being the soldiers who stand on the decks, ready to attack once contact is made. 

But right now, their strength is the pirate ships. Small, but deadly. Fast on the winds with their triple sails, able to make quick turns and maneuver around the bigger ships, attacking them like a wasp does a man. 

It was hard leaving Hyunjin behind, to protect the palace with Geom, just in case, but he did it anyway. And to his surprise, Hyunjin listened. And with the threat right in front of him, Changbin is ever so grateful that he did.

“It won’t be long,” a familiar voice says. 

Changbin looks over his shoulder, head spinning as he does with another big wave rolling under the ship. 

Cheonsa decidedly looks away when commander Park walks up to them, hiding her nauseated face from his view.

The commander dips his head as a polite greeting, and continues, “They’re probably waiting for the winds to turn so they can sail up the current.” The man pauses, biting his bottom lip as he watches the ships over Changbin’s shoulder.

“Something’s on your mind,” Changbin notes, “speak up.”

He moves his only hand to fidget at the crossbow on his other arm. It’s not loaded, no arrow in sight, but it still looks threatening. Changbin is happy he has him on his side, and not as an enemy. 

The man swallows before finally talking. “I’ve seen the Sinhaean fleet before. There are only around sixty ships here, that’s less than a tenth of the offensive force of their navy.” He pulls at the string of his bow, much like someone would play with their hair. “They’ve either grossly underestimated you, or–” 

He gets interrupted by the sound of Cheonsa puking violently again, spilling whatever she has left in her stomach into the river.

The commander clears his throat. “That being said, I advise we start the first phase of attack as soon as they break formation. We can take out most of them before they even reach us.”

Changbin waddles forward, still unsure on his feet, and reaches up to put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I will never forget this, okay?” He squeezes, uniform crumpling under his grip, but he just wants to make sure he gets the message across. “I’ll be forever in your debt.”

A small, but humble smile forms on the commander's lips, “You should tell that to the captain,” then, a soft laugh a roll of his eyes, “once he wakes up, of course.” 

A group of seagulls pass over, throwing scattered shadows on them under the late afternoon sun, and even Changbin can crack a smile. “Yeah, once he wakes up.”

“Changbin!” A loud voice carries over the water from the ship that’s anchored next to them. He looks to find the source, and discovers Daehwi waving at him, one of the few people who talks to him without using his title. He raises his hands to his mouth once Changbin spots him, and yells, “Two more hours and I’m going home! I hate it here!”

The deity leans a bit too much over the edge, but is quickly pulled back to safety by Hangyeol. His friend nods at him from where he stands on the other ship, but that’s the only small moment of reassurance Changbin gets before the sound of drums picks up again, the rhythm faster and louder this time.

Changbin can feel the salty air of the sea hit his skin, blowing his hair out of his face.

The winds have turned.

As if summoned, the captain finally emerges from the cabin, yawning and stretching his arms as he climbs the steps. “Alright, listen up, kids,” he calls, rubbing at his eyes. 

Even Cheonsa turns now, leaning back against the ledge of the ship, but paying attention nevertheless. Just like everyone else, quiet and eyes on the captain, waiting for him to instruct them what to do next. It becomes clear to Changbin that here, on the water, he’s not in charge, does not rule.

The water has no king.

This time, the captain has opted for a leather coat, which Changbin just can’t understand with the sun burning his own bare shoulders. The coat moves stiffly as the man talks, using his hand to gesture wildly, “Stick to the plan! And as usual, whoever draws first blood, gets a prize!”

“That’ll be me,” Cheonsa says next to him, voice hoarse from what her throat has been through.

“Thirteen ships in an arrowhead position coming our way!” Changbin looks up at the voice and finds the young, cloudy eyed boy in the crow’s nest, leaning dangerously over the edge of his limited space. “Another five coming in three boat-lengths behind them!”

“God-boy,” the captain yells across the water, “do your thing!”

Changbin can’t see properly from this distance, but he can imagine Daehwi is rolling his eyes at that. Still, the deity moves to the utmost end of the ship and raises his hands. He knows Daehwi isn’t that strong of a deity, that he can’t do much with the power that has been given to him through the few tributes he receives from his followers. And yet, he promised to give his all in this battle, to string out every last bit of magic that he can manage.

As Daehwi raises his hands, the smallest junk ships emerge from between the ones they are on now. The ships have their sails down, and move against the wind, not with it. There’s ten of them in total, and Changbin thinks it’s bizarre that even with so little power, Daehwi can still move them along the current towards their enemy. And that’s what the battered, small ships are going to have to depend on, since there’s no crew on-board to steer them down the river. 

The captain joins Changbin in watching the ships glide over the water, quickly approaching the much larger, bulky ships, who are still moving forward at a steady pace. “I’d like to remind you that you’ll be compensating for our losses, kind king,” he says, watching the spectacle with elation.

Changbin can’t answer, because the commander steps in between them, loading an arrow into his crossbow. “They’re not slowing down. I don’t like that.” 

For the first time, the captain’s smile falls, a serious look on his face. “Yeah, they’re either idiots, or–” he reaches into the pocket of his leather coat and retrieves two rocks, one bright red, and one a dull gold, “let’s just hope they’re idiots.” 

The enemy ships are getting closer now, still not breaking formation. An awful sense of dread settles in Changbin’s stomach as he can finally make out the amount of soldiers standing in straight lines on the decks. He knows how they fight their battles. They latch onto their opponent’s ships, storm them, and kill everyone in sight with as little damage to the ship as possible so they can claim it for their own.

The pirate captain had told him this, and also came up with a way to beat them. A wicked smile returns on the man’s face as he strikes the rocks he’s holding against each other. He does it once, twice, and then finally sparks fly. The commander leans in with his arm–no, his crossbow, and the captain sets fire to the arrow with an unnatural, reddish flame, burning way too bright to have just been birthed by rocks.

Changbin instinctively takes a step back as the commander aims his arrow. He pinches an eye closed and lets his tongue peek out as he points his weapon at the small ships that are now breaking into the enemy's formation. The Sinhaean soldiers scatter around the decks, throwing spears at the junks. But it’s no use, because the commander shoots his first arrow.

It must be magic, there’s no other way. An arrow shouldn’t be able to travel that far, especially not against the wind. But it shoots through the air in an arc, until it disappears between the foreign ships, out of sight.

But Changbin doesn’t have to see the arrow to know it hit its goal. 

The junk ships are filled to the brim with black powder after all.

The sound of the explosion is deafening, and Changbin’s hair gets blown out of his face form the shockwave. And yet he can hear the pirates cheer as the ships burn. Changbin’s soldiers join in on the celebration, even hooking arms with the pirates as the enemies jump off their ships to save their lives. Cheonsa spits on the deck, disapproval on her face; she’s always been one to prefer an honest fight. 

“Here they come,” the captain leans his elbows on the balustrade and rests his chin on his hands as he watches the spectacle in front of him, “they’ll try to win by sheer strength now. Send out all their ships, hoping enough of them break through the fire to take us out. Just as I expected.”

Changbin has to look away, has to walk to the other side of the ship where he leans against a post to keep himself steady as the sound of drums and explosions boom through the air. There are people dying, so many of them, and it’s all at his orders. He’s the one who gave permission for this, who signed a deal with the pirates, who paid for the black powder. He’s responsible and he feels it. Feels it in the way his heart hurts, in the twist of his stomach.

But he has to do this. If not, then his people will be the ones dying. The poor citizens who have already lost their houses in the fire, the families who lost their fathers, the innocent children who didn’t choose Changbin to be their king. He owes it to them.

“Stand up straight,” Cheonsa’s voice is cold when she finds him, “Act like a king, for fuck’s sake.” Then, she leans in, a little softer, “Don’t die on me, little brother. That’s not how I wish to become queen.” 

The words confuse him, but when Changbin turns and looks at the horizon, he understands. A few ships have managed to pass through the wreckage and are coming their way, strong wind in their sails pushing them forward at a steady pace. 

On the decks, the soldiers stand in formation. Some with their weapons drawn, others holding a long walking plank that they will surely be using to enter their ships. The drums continue to beat.

Changbin wishes he could just jump off the ship and swim to safety.

But suddenly, he feels something warm on his side. Something that feels like a touch, with a hint of safety. He grabs at it and finds the hilt of his sword, the metal unnaturally warm. He pulls it out of its sheath a bit and then he feels it. Hyunjin’s magic, still captured inside the sword. 

It will protect him, he knows it. He can strike down anyone in his path, without having to worry about killing them. All he has to do is cut someone’s flesh once, and they will go unconscious. Hyunjin told him that’s the spell he put on his sword. And Changbin believes in his magic more than Hyunjin does himself, so he knows it to be true. 

And if it’s not true, then he’ll soon find out, because the first ship comes so close he can practically count the number of soldiers that have their swords ready. The ship drops its sails, letting them fly in the wind without catching any of it, and on the side of the ship, two hatches open, dropping a huge anchor into the river each. It’s only a moment before the ship slows down. Changbin can tell they’re experienced with this tactic, because when the ship finally comes to a halt, it’s right next to theirs. 

The sound of wood hitting wood reverberates through the ship as they throw down the planks. There are hooks at the end of the planks, sinking into the old wood of the pirate ship. Changbin watches two of his own soldiers trying to unhook the walking plank from the ledge, but before they can they get struck down by the first Sinhaean soldier crossing over. 

“Draw,” Cheonsa hisses next to him, but Changbin is frozen. 

Foreign soldiers litter onto the ship and still Changbin cannot move. He doesn’t know how to breathe, chest tight, and fingers cold from fear. Cheonsa has to jump in front of him, sword raised high to receive a blow from another soldier, sparks flying. It’s only then that Changbin remembers how to breathe. 

This time when he draws his sword, it’s with the intention to fight. 

He turns his back to his sister, guarding her blind spot while he holds his sword with both hands. The hilt feels hot but safe, and the metal glints blue in the sun. Sounds of weapons hitting flesh, of men screaming, fill the air. But he can’t hear it. He only hears his own heartbeat, blood swishing in his ears like crashing waves.

A man comes charging towards him, eyes brave and a curse on his lips. It’s as if Changbin remembers all of his training suddenly, almost twenty years of sword fighting practice flashing through his head. He remembers all the times Hangyeol had him fall to his back, sword pointed to his neck. He remembers the first time Hyunjin beat him, and the way the other managed to surprise him every practice match. And most importantly, he remembers how not to die.

The soldier’s sword hits his and the sheer force of it pushes Changbin back on his heels. But he pushes back, because what else can he do. He has no time to feel fear, or to think about his next move. All he does is clench his jaw as he takes a step forward, planting his foot onto the other man’s shoe, keeping him in place. The soldier goes in for another swing, but Changbin is faster.

He’s used to his sword hitting other swords. Used to the feeling of hitting something hard, the resistance that only metal can offer. So it’s an awful feeling when his sword meets flesh, the edge of it slicing into the delicate skin right under the other’s armpit, where his armor ends. 

It makes Changbin’s hairs stand up, like listening to nails on a chalkboard. 

The cut isn’t deep, because Changbin didn’t dare to put all his strength into it. But he’s happy he didn’t, because the small cut is enough for the soldier’s eyes to roll back as he passes out. His knees buckle and he falls down, face-first onto the ship’s deck. 

Hyunjin’s spell works. 

Changbin would feel joy if he could, but he doesn’t have that luxury right now, because another soldier replaces the previous one, coming straight for his throat.

It’s almost as if he zones out, whatever is happening blending into an awful flurry of violence. His brain turns off and his body takes over, cutting down one soldier after the other. There’s no emotions to it, no feelings getting in the way. It’s probably his mind trying to protect him from developing any trauma. He knows he’ll be grateful for that once this is over. 

One soldier manages to hit him just as Changbin’s arms begin to tire. He doesn’t manage to defend himself in time, and the tip of other’s sword comes into his vision. Changbin pulls back, but it’s a little too late, because the next thing he feels is a stinging pain and then his right eye fills up with blood, blinding him.

He stumbles back even further, grabbing at his face. Did he hit his eye? How bad is it? Is he going to lose it?

The soldier comes closer with a smile, knowing that Changbin is too unsettled to properly defend himself. 

Changbin falls onto his butt, sword clashing down onto the floor next to him. He reaches behind himself to find his sister, but Cheonsa is gone. He looks around but his vision is so clouded, and all he sees is just the mess of the melee. 

The soldier raises his sword over his head, ready to strike down. Changbin remembers the last time this happened and almost laughs at the fact that his only thought is hoping that he won’t piss himself this time. 

But the swing never comes. Instead, the soldier freezes and pales. He looks down at his stomach, a small outwards dent in his chest armor. Blood spills down from under it, trickling down his shirt and onto his pants. 

The person behind him forces the soldier down with his foot, pulling his sword out of the man's back. The soldier is on his knees now, eyes locked with Changbin as he slowly bleeds out. 

The captain, the one who just saved Changbin's life, sheaths his sword and leans down to grab the soldier by his hair. He brings his hand to the man's right eye and digs his long, sharp nails in. 

The soldier breathes out a silent scream, too weak to fight it, as the captain digs out his eye. It comes out too easily, easier than Changbin would ever have liked to imagine. And with bloody fingers and a quick pull, the captain rips the eye from its socket.

At this, the soldier finally dies and falls forward. 

The captain holds the eye up to the sun, studying it. "An eye for an eye, right?" he asks with a wicked smile, looking at Changbin. Then, he pockets the eye and gets up to fight his next fight, leaving the soldier like his death meant nothing to him. Which it probably didn’t.

Changbin reaches and finds his sword. Once he does he turns to his hands and knees to get away from here. He’s too confused to stand up, his vision too impaired to see where he’s going. So he just crawls away from the scene, just to be anywhere else. The wood under his hands is soaked with blood and it’s almost like the ship is bleeding. 

He gets away from the worst part of the fight, into an area where there’s less feet moving around, less screams of men dying. At the far end of the ship, he finally runs into two pairs of feet, one planted firmly onto the deck, the other dangling above the ground, twitching.

Changbin blinks and looks up with his functional eye. There’s a pirate he hasn’t seen before. Short in stature, but arms that could crush anything, which shows from the hand he has wrapped around a foreign soldier’s neck, squeezing his windpipe. The pirate notices Changbin, and then quickly pulls the soldier closer, only to use his other hand to snap the man’s neck.

He’s dead within an instant.

“If you’re not gonna fight, you’re in the way,” the pirate says, the dark eyes adorning his young face piercing right through Changbin. 

Changbin wants to tell him that he’s the king and that he has every right to be here, even if he’s crawling around like a coward, but before he knows it, the pirate is hoisting him up by the back of his shirt. Now he’s sure he’s about to piss himself, scared that he’s facing the same fate as the poor soldier with the broken neck that lies discarded on the deck.

But Changbin just closes his eye and next thing he knows, he’s flying. He waits for a splash, but it never comes. Instead, his body hits wood with the full force of his weight.

“Jongho, you fucking threw the king!” is the first thing Changbin hears in a familiar voice. Then, the sound of metal hitting wood right next to his head. Changbin opens his eye and finds an axe stuck in the deck. He looks up and is greeted by a wide smile, short of one front tooth, a face he’s seen in his council room before. 

“You lost a tooth,” Changbin says, voice shaky.

“You hurt your eye,” Mingi says, smiling again, “Don’t worry, it’ll grow back.” Changbin doesn’t know if he’s referring to his tooth or Changbin’s eye, but he knows he’s wrong on both fronts. 

“Here, let me see,” a new voice. Changbin gets pulled up to his feet by his shirt for the second time today and is turned around. It’s the other pirate he met before, the one with the wicked smile and eyepatch. He reaches for Changbin’s eye and pulls the lids apart. “It’s just your eyebrow that’s messed up and swollen, you’ll be fine once you get that fixed and wash the blood out,” San says.

The words should calm Changbin down, but he doesn’t get the chance to feel relief, because a soldier sneaks up behind the pirate. Changbin opens his mouth to warn him, but it’s futile. The soldier already has an axe in his forehead. 

San let’s go of Changbin and clicks his tongue, “Don’t steal my kills, Mingi.”

Mingi puts his foot down on the dead soldier’s shoulder, pulling his axe from the man’s skull. “Then be quicker,” he says as he drags the dead body to the edge of the ship and tosses it into the river.

San rolls his eye at that and pats Changbin on the shoulder, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “You go hide with the god-boy now,” he says as he cocks his chin to the center of the ship, “Can’t have you dying in battle.”

Changbin is almost flattered by the concern, but then he remembers that it’s only because he still needs to pay the pirates. 

He presses his sleeve to his bleeding eyebrow as he makes his way to the center of the ship, dragging his sword along. No one seems to notice him, everyone wrapped up in their own personal battles. He probably doesn’t even look like a king right now, shirt soaked in blood and skin paled from fear.

As promised, he finds Daehwi at the bottom of the mast, protecting himself with a water barrier like the one Changbin has seen him teach to Hyunjin many weeks ago. Daehwi looks bored and barely acknowledges Changbin as he wraps the barrier around him as well.

Inside, it’s almost quiet. The sound of swords and screams resonating like a distant echo. Daehwi has his arms folded in front of him, looking at nothing in particular, but Changbin can see his shoulders shake, betraying the deity’s nerves. 

“So many souls will pass over today,” Daehwi says, finally breaking the silence.

Changbin slides to the floor, back against the mast, and continues to put pressure on his eyebrow. Finally, the bleeding stops. He doesn’t know what to say.

Daehwi turns. “You must bury the ones they don’t toss overboard. Don’t let all of them rot on the bottom of the river.”

Changbin nods slowly. “I will.” Enemies or not, no one deserves to waste away like that. But that reminds him, “Have you seen Chan? I assigned him to this ship.”

Daehwi frowns. “Who’s Chan?”

Changbin feels dizzy from the blow to his head earlier, but that doesn’t cause his confusion. Have Daehwi and Chan never met? How is that even possible? The palace might be big, but–

Cheers sound from the ship next to them as the final ships of the Sinhaean fleet turn around and retreat. The pirates link arms in celebration with Changbin’s soldiers, filled with joy at their quick victory.

And quick it is, way too quick. Not only did the enemy sacrifice so many ships by sailing through the flames, but they also continued to fight even after they became outnumbered. What made them decide to finally give up? Did they still have hope earlier? What changed?

A shadow falls over them and Changbin hears the familiar flap of strong wings. Geom lands on the end of the ship, his weight tipping it down dangerously. Hyunjin is on his back, face like thunder, but pale and terrified.

“Uh oh,” is all Daehwi says next to him as Changbin feels more fear and dread than he’s felt all day.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh.


	7. Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thanks @ everyone fo reading!!!!!!

“ _‘He might find the winds to be blowing south soon,’_ ” Changbin quotes, squatting down in the dark dungeon cell, trying to look the prince in the eye.

The young man has half of his face wrapped in bandages, hiding the damage Hyunjin has done to him, mirroring the ones on Changbin’s face that keep the gash in his eyebrow together. The prince’s one eye that’s not covered is focused on the floor, pupil wide and accustomed to the darkness. A small, satisfied smile rests on his lips.

“You really had me fooled,” Changbin says, trying to sound entertained, “did you two agree on this beforehand, or–”

“We’re twins,” Minghao says, finally looking up. “We think the same.”

Changbin hums at that. “Well, you were right. Your brother sent a small fleet to attack at our harbor, while his army marched over the border.” Changbin tries not to let his emotions show, tries not to think about all the small towns the other prince burned on his way down to the capital, just to prevent any news about his arrival from spreading. At least Minghao had bribed the border towns. His twin brother just burned everyone alive. 

And now there’s a whole fucking army parked right outside the capital. Hyunjin was the one to spot them as he was keeping watch on the palace roof. He flew in on Geom to warn Changbin, right as they were celebrating their victory on the water. Changbin is lucky they haven’t stormed them yet. Instead, the army is camped out on the fields, waiting for the next move.

They sent a messenger, asking for parley before nightfall. The message said to show proof that the prince is still alive. If not, they will take over the capital and leave no one unharmed. Changbin doesn’t know how this works, how to be diplomatic and talk his way out of this, but at least he has the prince. He has his pawn and that gives him power. 

It doesn’t put him at ease at all.

The sun is already setting as the guards escort the prince and his tiger out of the capital. Changbin is the only one with them now, since he wants to make sure everything goes well. Their army is setting up camp, following Cheonsa’s instructions in preparation for another battle. Everyone is tired, and even hurt, but this is where their strength lies. The army has never lost a battle on solid ground under Cheonsa’s lead. 

Geom follows them on foot, his weight shaking the ground. He sounds upset, nudging the prince’s tiger in the side every now and then. The two creatures had apparently taken up an unusual friendship. Changbin wishes it were that simple for him as well.

The prince drags his feet as he follows Changbin, a guard giving him a push in the back to hurry up. “The one who burned me,” Minghao asks, voice directed at Changbin, “he is your lover, no?”

Changbin doesn’t answer.

“He is not human,” Minghao states, fiddling with the cuffs behind his back, “It can never last, you know? You differ too much.”

Changbin stops, Minghao almost bumping into him. “What would you know about it?"

He turns and the two guards stare back at him, confused. Minghao just smiles knowingly.

Changbin reaches up to scratch at his bandage, the blood from the gash in his eyebrow clotting into the gauze. Then, he decides, “Gag him.” 

The rest of the walk is quiet as they finally make their way out of their own camp, through the grass, and onwards to the tent the enemies have set up for them to talk. 

How considerate of them. 

Hyunjin greets him outside, going against Changbin’s wishes for him to stay in the palace. But he’s glad to see him right now, since he needs someone to ground him. Hyunjin asks Geom to guard the tiger, and apparently he understands the order, because the dragon puts his foot down firmly on the chain that’s attached to the tiger’s neck. He probably doesn’t want the beast to run away from him for different reasons than they have.

Hyunjin doesn’t look at the Minghao, his cheeks aflame with embarrassment from seeing the way he burned the young man’s face. 

They leave the prince outside with the guards, because Changbin knows better now than to show all his cards at once. Inside the tent, he finds his sister, her face hard to read, clutching the hilt of her sword. The interior is barren, no chairs, no nothing, just a few candles to light the space. Changbin takes note of this. There’s no obstructions if things go sour and they need to fight. 

“The young prince will be here soon,” Hangyeol says, hiding in the shadows.

Next to him stands Chan, studying his nailbeds. It catches Changbin’s attention. The man always had his way of worming himself into situations like these, sticking his nose into things that clearly aren’t his business.

“I missed you on the ship I assigned you to earlier,” Changbin says, an open question in his voice.

Chan looks up at that and smiles, his face as innocent as a newborn child. “I got on the wrong ship.”

Changbin catches the way Hangyeol’s eyes flit between him and Chan. Everyone in the room bears the traces of battle. Dirt on their cheeks, blood on their clothes. Even Hyunjin has soot on his pants from flying through the clouds of smoke. They had no time after the battle on the water to wash themselves, barely time to even regroup.

Meanwhile, Chan looks freshly bathed, clothes pressed and neat curls tucked behind his reddened ears. 

Was it fear that stopped him, and fear that made him blatantly lie to Changbin’s face right now? He understands how one wouldn’t want to fight, and knows he doesn’t want to force people to risk their lives for him. But still, he can’t help but feel a bit hurt. He assumed Chan would’ve been there for him, and put his devilish powers to good use in battle. But Changbin shrugs it off, since Chan is here now, so–

The tent opens on the other end, the last rays of the setting sun on the horizon blinding them for a second. Then, three figures come inside.

They look calm and composed, like they’ve already won. Not a single guard accompanies them. It makes Changbin nervous. 

“I’ll be your interpreter,” says the man on the right, an accent to his voice that Changbin can’t place.

That means the man in the middle must be the prince. It makes sense. He’s the same height as his twin, but that’s the only similarity to him. His face is way sharper, and his eyes are centered on Changbin, filled with hatred. 

Next to Changbin, Hyunjin is frozen. He’s looking at the third person, a young boy, frail in stature and the shortest in the tent. He can’t be a year over fourteen, and he would be the least threatening person ever, but–Changbin can feel it. The underlying current, the buzz of magic so strong that it suffocates him. 

The prince’s voice pulls Changbin’s attention away from the young boy. The man’s voice is deep and authoritative, his hand on his chest as he speaks a language Changbin has now come to know as Sinhaean. He doesn’t understand a word of it, and yet, the message is clear. 

“We will take your little city,” the interpreter says, a joyful spark to his eyes, “unless you return the prince to us.”

Changbin looks over his shoulder to check with Chan, the only other person in the tent who speaks both languages. Chan nods, confirming the translation to be true. 

When Changbin speaks, he doesn’t look at the interpreter. Instead, his eyes are on the prince, as he asks, “Why should I believe you won’t attack us regardless as soon as we hand him over?”

The prince smiles as the words are translated to him. As he responds, the young boy next to him exits the tent. 

“We have something to trade, to show that we mean well,” the interpreter says.

Behind him, Chan whispers, “Don’t freak out now.”

The little boy returns, tugging someone along by a chain.

The man trips over his own feet and drops to his knees in front of them, almost tugging the chain from the boy’s small hands.

The roots of his hair are dark and greasy, unkempt with neglect. He’s skinny, dirt and dried up blood on his cheeks. The wide shirt slips off his shoulder, showing traces of bruises, turned yellow in the healing process. 

But the most horrific thing of it all is the way his mouth is unable to open, his lips stuck together like glue. Changbin can hear the words that are stuck in his throat, aching to escape. There’s clearly some dark magic going on here, as the young boy’s presence suggests.

But even under these circumstances, it’s good to see Jisung again.

It’s Hyunjin who fumbles first, taking a single step forward, aching to wrap Jisung in a tight hug. But he doesn’t get much further than that, as the prince pulls his sword as soon as he does.

Jisung’s eyes meet Changbin’s, filled with a warning.

“Hyunjin,” Changbin grabs his lover by the shoulder, slowly pulling him back, “not now.” 

“Say the word, Changbin,” Cheonsa says, knuckles white around the hilt of her sword.

Changbin knows they could end this now. Hyunjin could distract with fire, as the rest of them slaughter the enemies before they can escape the tent. They outnumber them, five to three, Jisung not even included. Despite Jisung being tied up, Changbin knows his friend still has a few tricks up his sleeve. That’s not the face of someone who’s given up.

But they only win with numbers inside this tent. Outside stands an army that is three times the size of theirs. They need all the favors they can get. 

“Godslayer,” the prince says, bobbing his chin at Jisung. 

Changbin squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Of course Jisung had run his big mouth and tell all of them who he was. And it saved his fucking life, showed them how important he was to the king before they could kill him. Minghao’s soldiers must have captured him on the day of the first attack and brought him back to the other prince. 

He opens his eyes and pushes his emotions away. It’s so hard not to face his feelings. The joy of seeing his best friend again, of finding out he’s not dead. Somehow he thinks he knew all along, because he’s not as surprised as he should be. But for now, he has to look away from Jisung to prevent himself from breaking out in tears of relief. 

“We mean no harm,” the interpreter says unprompted, and Changbin gets the idea that the man is more than just an interpreter, “we just want the prince to return home safely.”

“No harm?” Changbin almost chokes on the words, sweat settling on his neck. “Do you have any idea how many people have died? Innocent people burned alive? My soldiers and yours, fighting to the death? You even sent an assassin to kill me–” 

The prince and the interpreter look at each other, confused, and exchange whispers. Behind Changbin, Chan leans in to catch their words.

“We can assure you,” the interpreter starts, “we sent no assassin.”

Changbin drops his head, staring at his shoes in the dried grass. There’s blood on them, soaked into the linen and turned a muddy brown. Then again, it might also be mud. He doesn’t know. The wind passes over the tent and rustles the tarp. It’s too loud to think. It’s all too much.

If the Sinhaean prince didn’t send the assassin, then who did?

Changbin sniffs, breathing in the musty smell of dirt and blood. It smells like rot and he hates it. Hyunjin is staring at him, looking at him like he has all the answers. He wishes he did. 

“Prince Minghao,” the interpreter asks, “we’d like to see him.”

“Yes,” Changbin’s voice is breathy, there’s too much air in his chest, “of course.” He gestures to Hangyeol. “Bring him in.”

The whole tent goes silent as the guards bring in the battered prince. Changbin gestures for them to take out the gag, a courtesy. One that he hopes they will mirror with Jisung. 

“Sicheng!” Minghao calls his brother’s name instantly as the rag is pulled from his mouth. 

They exchange rushed words, and then Chan’s hand is on Changbin’s shoulder, urging him to put a stop to it. Whatever the twins might be saying to each other, it can’t be good. 

Changbin clears his throat. “So, your brother in exchange for my–” Changbin doesn’t know what to call Jisung, he doesn’t want them to know just how important he is to him, just in case things go haywire, “my servant.”

Jisung raises his eyebrows at that.

The twin prince’s eyes are still on Minghao, looking at the bandages that cover his face. Then, he speaks, this time in Changbin’s language.

“Deal.”

It’s like there’s a weight off his chest and Changbin can breathe again. He can’t even begin to imagine the number of lives they just spared. 

“But,” the interpreter breaks the silence, looking at the young witch boy from the corner of his eye, “it’ll take some time to undo the spell that has been placed on your servant. So how about we do the trade at sunrise?”

That worries Changbin, making the anxiety in his stomach resurface. Why can’t they just do it now? Under their supervision? Changbin just wants to be done with this as soon as possible, and not a second later. But Jisung grabs his attention, locking eyes with him, and fervently nods. 

And if there’s anyone he trusts, it’s Jisung. 

“Sunrise it is.”

* * *

“Send a messenger to Minho,” Changbin holds on to the tarp of his private tent, whispering the words to Hangyeol who’s shrouded in moonlight, “he needs to know Jisung is still alive.” 

“Will do,” Hangyeol nods, and then, “Try to get some sleep. You look awful.”

“Thanks,” Changbin jokes, “I’ll try.” 

He lets the tarp drop and ties a knot in the cords attached to it, locking it from the inside to anyone who might mistake his tent for theirs. Despite the privacy, he can still hear the sounds outside. There are weapons being sharpened by pessimists. And then there are groups of soldiers sitting at their campfires, getting drunk on wine as they optimistically celebrate their victory.

Changbin wishes he were one of them, convinced that everything will be alright. But there’s this nagging in his stomach still, this feeling that he can’t put at ease. He won’t be able to cheer until he can hold Jisung in his arms again and the enemies are way past the border. 

“Something on your mind?” Hyunjin’s voice is soft, reminding Changbin of his presence. 

Changbin turns to look at him. His mind is so messy that he almost forgot his lover is right here with him in the tent, sitting crosslegged on the bedding, bathing in the candlelight that he lit with his magic. As always, they burn just a little hotter when Hyunjin is the one who gave birth to the flame. 

There’s so much on his mind, so he doesn’t even know what he would address first. There’s the possibility of everything going wrong at sunrise, of losing Jisung still. But there’s also the weight on his back of the fight earlier today, the sheer amount of people who died fighting for his country. He sent those people to their graves the moment he put them on those ships. And even now, despite all of that, his army is camped out all around him and ready to fight whenever need be. He feels like he doesn’t deserve such loyalty.

He simply can’t even begin to process all of this, so he keeps a tight lid on it. Changbin just knows that if he allows himself to think of it fully, to face it straight on, that he will collapse. Right now he just prefers to view it as if he were looking in through a window; seeing the situation and yet not being present.

Besides, there’s a thought at the back of his mind telling him that Hyunjin might react poorly to his feelings. It wouldn’t be the first time that his lover would act recklessly in reaction to Changbin being in a fragile position. 

Which is why he lies. “No, nothing on my mind, really.”

“Don’t–” Hyunjin’s eyes are dark, the candles reflecting his widened pupils like stars, “don’t shut me out. You can talk to me.”

Changbin bends a knee to untie the laces to his shoe, looking anywhere but at Hyunjin. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine.” The words leave a bitter taste on his tongue. 

The flames of the candles flare up suddenly, sending a wave of heat through the tent, making the tarp flutter. Hyunjin’s emotions are tangible. 

“You tell me not to fight, to keep safe and stay out of it,” Hyunjin says, his fingers playing with the dragon pendant on his necklace, “and now you won’t even talk to me?”

Changbin freezes, his fingers stuck in his laces. Despite the heat, he feels so cold. 

“I just want to support the person I love,” Hyunjin continues, “Am I just here to distract you? Is that what I am to you? A distraction?” Hyunjin raises his voice on the last phrase. Changbin has never heard him raise his voice like that.

Somehow, he doesn’t dare to look up, too afraid to see his lover’s face. He can’t believe Hyunjin would even think that, but even worse than that, he can’t believe he actually made him believe that through his own, stupid actions. 

The shoelaces feel tight around his fingers. He wants to just pull them out and wrap them around his neck or something, choke some sense into himself. But he can’t. He needs to fix things.

He remembers what Minghao told him about Hyunjin. That they could never last, that they differ too much. A god and a human, not made to be equal. Changbin hates himself for believing it.

“I am so scared,” he finally admits, voice small.

Hyunjin is next to him instantly. His fingers are gentle as they find his face, tilting his chin up so he can look him in the eyes. There’s a hint of anger left in his expression, laced with hurt. But his brows are furrowed in concern. “Scared of what?” he asks.

Changbin huffs a light laugh, but there’s no joy in it. “Everything?” he shrugs.

Hyunjin cocks his head to the side, concern taking over all other feelings now. “Just talk to me.”

Changbin considers it, but he doesn’t even know where to start. And most of all, he doesn’t want to burden Hyunjin with all of those messy feelings. He bets his lover already has enough going on as it is. Besides, what if he judges him for being so scared? Would he think he’s a coward? Changbin is supposed to be a brave king, and yet he’s crumbling. 

“I fear for more people dying. I fear the guilt that it brings me. I’m scared of losing the people I love, I’m scared of losing you, and I–I’m scared of dying.” It feels like he’s rambling, words pouring out of him with no way to stop them. It’s hard to look directly at Hyunjin, because it feels like he’s looking straight into his soul. Changbin feels _seen_ and he doesn’t know how to handle it. 

“That’s it?” Hyunjin asks with the sweetest smile. A joke.

Changbin’s cheeks twitch with the need to smile at that, but he can’t. Not yet. “Yeah, that’s it,” is what he says.

“You can talk to me about these things, love.” Hyunjin’s thumb is on Changbin’s cheekbone, brushing across his skin softly until his nail gets stuck in a piece of dried up blood. He picks at it, peels it off, and continues his ministrations. 

Changbin sighs, leaning into the touch. “But I don’t want to burden you with these things. I don’t want to make you upset.”

Hyunjin pinches his cheek, hurting the tender flesh. Not too much, just a warning. “Don’t say that. You won’t burden me.” 

Changbin nods quietly, not really believing that it’s true. 

Hyunjin seems to notice. He stands and pulls Changbin up by his arms, then leading him to where the bedding is laid out on the dry grass. Changbin manages to kick off his untied shoes just in time before Hyunjin drags him down with him, sitting on the soft bedding side by side. It’s the first time today that Changbin is resting, and the feeling is a welcome one.

“Remember how I’m a deity?” Hyunjin asks.

Changbin scoffs. “What? Really?” He eyes the dragon pendant where it rests on Hyunjin’s chest. Then, he moves to touch it, giving it a quick flick and watches it swing from side to side. 

Hyunjin laughs, grabbing at the pendant to stop it from moving. “What I mean is,” this time, his face is serious, “I’m supposed to be prayed to. People are supposed to tell me their concerns. I might not know how to comfort you, or–or how to tell you that everything is going to be okay, but–”

Hyunjin pauses to think, frowning and looking down at the empty space between them. Then, “I want to be the first one you turn to for support, no matter how selfish that sounds. I want you to show me the parts of you that no one else sees.”

Changbin wants to argue with that, and make a joke about the way Hyunjin has already seen quite some intimate sides of him, but he decides against it. Instead, he thinks about it. Even though he can’t believe it, he has to take Hyunjin’s word for it, that he won’t feel burdened by Changbin’s concerns.

He tries a thing that his mom taught him when he was a kid. After one of his fights with Jisung, over him stealing a toy from Changbin after he had hogged it for hours, his mother suggested putting himself in Jisung’s shoes for a minute. It helped him see how clouded his judgment was by his own emotions.

So he does the same right now. If Hyunjin were to keep things from him, worry himself sick in private and not share his concerns, it would drive Changbin crazy. He wants to know everything that goes on in Hyunjin’s life, he doesn’t want to be shut out by him, he doesn’t–wait a minute.

“But don’t you do this too?” he asks, not as much accusation in his voice as there is amusement at the fact that they’re both idiots.

“Huh?” Hyunjin looks confused.

“You’ve been sulking the last couple of weeks since I told you to stay out of the fight,” Changbin scratches at his bandage, the healing wound already itching, “And last year, you–you–” he swallows, the memory still painful, “you left without saying anything.”

He doesn’t have to specify what he means, because Hyunjin’s face pales. 

“That’s–”

“Different?” Changbin ends the sentence for him. “No, it’s not.”

Changbin remembers the feeling so well. Waking up and finding that Hyunjin had left with Geom, taking off on his own to defeat the northern deity. How they chased him down, Changbin in constant fear of catching up only to realize he was too late. 

Back then they never talked about it. After Jisung killed the deity, and Hyunjin had survived the ordeal, Changbin was just too happy about his lover still being alive to even get mad at him. And even after that, he got a whole country tossed in his lap, for him to rule. At one point, so much time passed that it felt uncomfortable to bring up again. Until now, that is.

Changbin is pulled from his memories by a sniff. Hyunjin always looks so silly when he cries, but in the most endearing way. Whatever anger and confusion Changbin was feeling earlier, just leaks out of him right now, like water from a broken vase. Hyunjin’s skin is hot under his fingers as Changbin wipes at his cheeks, and his tears are even hotter, burning him.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin’s voice sounds broken, but he doesn’t seem to care, forcing the words out regardless, “I don’t–I don’t know how relationships work.”

Changbin laughs at that fondly. “Well, in your defense, you _were_ stuck on an island for a hundred years.” 

Hyunjin sniffs again, but this time he smiles through the tears. “Minho didn’t teach me shit,” he jokes.

“Yeah. It’s his fault,” Changbin plays along with it, nodding to himself as he says, “I think I should jail him for his crimes.”

“That sounds about right,” Hyunjin agrees, resting his wet cheek against the palm of Changbin’s hand, closing his eyes for a second, looking content.

“If it’s any comfort,” Changbin shimmies himself closer to Hyunjin on the bedding, “I don’t know how relationships work either.” 

“Then we’re both just lost, huh?” When Hyunjin smiles his cheeks form deep dimples, making him seem so youthful and innocent. Changbin can almost pretend that the both of them aren’t scarred by life the way they are. 

“Yes, but we’re lost together,” Changbin says.

He drops his hand to Hyunjin’s lap to take his hands in his instead. No matter how often he touches his lover, he’ll never not be surprised with how warm he is, and how his touch just seems to heat him up in every way. Changbin wonders if he’d ever truly felt warm before he met Hyunjin.

But right now he just thinks about how wrong the Sinhaean prince was, telling him that he and Hyunjin differ too much. That a god cannot love a human. Hyunjin is more human than Changbin thinks he’ll ever be, divinity be damned. 

He’s just so grateful to have him in his life, despite all the hardships. And as Changbin moves in to kiss him, to express exactly that, he wonders if this is how religious people feel. But then again, he should start considering himself to be religious as well, since he lives to love his deity. 

“No more secrets, alright?” he whispers the words against Hyunjin’s lips, “Not from me and not from you.”

“Deal,” Hyunjin whispers back. He pulls Changbin down with him as he lies on the sheets. 

Changbin heaves a deep sigh, spine slowly unwinding as he finally lays flat. Then, he remembers, “Your magic worked by the way. My sword can make someone unconscious with a single cut.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “Really? So you actually fought today?”

“I did,” Changbin says, tracing the collar of Hyunjin’s shirt with his finger, eyes unfocused, “it was awful.”

All the memories of the day come rushing back to him. The smell of blood all around him, the awful feeling of cutting into someone’s skin. And worst of all, watching so many people dying while knowing it’s his fault. He’s the one who put them on the ships, the one who gave the order. It fucking nauseates him.

“You’re thinking too much,” Hyunjin sounds worried, “let me distract you?”

He remembers what Hyunjin said earlier, and jokes, “I thought you didn’t want to just be a distraction to me?”

“I can make an exception for tonight,” Hyunjin says, and then he slowly wet his lips. It’s been a while since they were close like this, so the way Hyunjin moves almost seems awkward when he puts his hand on Changbin’s hip. The way he grips at his hipbone through his clothes can only mean one thing.

Changbin has to hold back a laugh. “Are you seducing me?”

“Is it working?”

It’s highly inappropriate, given the situation and his position. He should be thinking about the war right now, or try to get a good night’s rest. But above anything, he just wants to get his mind off of things for at least a minute. He’s been living in this flurry of stress and fear for over a month now. It’s almost as if he’s forgotten how to be himself, how to be anything other than the king. He just wants to just be himself for a little while.

And there’s nowhere where he feels more like himself than in Hyunjin’s arms. 

“I want to,” he says, “but I haven’t bathed since yesterday. It feels like blasphemy to have you touch me now.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Like that has ever bothered me before.” Then, his hand squeezes Changbin’s hip even tighter. “Remember the time we went hiking with the boys? When we got caught in the rain?”

Changbin smiles at the memory. He remembers it all too well. How the dark clouds had caught them by surprise, and how Minho kept on saying he knew bad weather was coming and that they should’ve listened to him. They got separated from the group as they ran to find shelter from the heavy rains. Changbin was the first to slip in the mud and pulled Hyunjin down with him. They were still so giddy with each other back then, eager to touch at any given opportunity.

Hyunjin had taken him with his back pressed into the mushy forest floor. Even after three days of washing, Changbin still found dirt in his hair. 

“Or–” Hyunjin runs his hand down Changbin’s thigh only to hook it behind his knee and pull his leg over his own, tugging him halfway into his lap, “or you could fuck me.”

“Fuck you?” Changbin asks in disbelief.

“Oh, you’re cussing me out now?” Hyunjin jokes before lazily rolling onto his back. An invitation.

Changbin takes up on the invitation eagerly, climbing on top him even more, straddling his hips. His lover giggles underneath him at his enthusiasm. Changbin shuts him up with a kiss.

He can hear the rustle of the camp outside. Drunk soldiers finally returning to their tents, tripping here and there. There’s even the familiar sound of Geom snoring somewhere nearby, asleep but alert enough to wake up and kill any intruders that come close to the king’s tent. He can hear so much but all he feels is Hyunjin’s soft lips.

His lover’s hands are busy as always, trying to touch him everywhere at once. They pull his shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants, and roam under the thin fabric, chasing up his sides, spreading across his chest, nails scratching his back. Changbin has to pull away from the kiss to breathe, air suddenly lost to him.

Hyunjin removes his curious hands, probably realizing how worked up he already is. And then, he reaches up and runs his fingers over the bandage on Changbin’s face, the one that is holding the cut in his eyebrow together. “Let me heal you,” he suggests.

“No, I–” Changbin bites his lip. He doesn’t know how to say that he wants the scar, that he wants something to remember today by. So instead, he just leans down to kiss Hyunjin again. 

Hyunjin drops the topic easily and reaches between them to undo the buttons of his own shirt, pulling it open as soon as he gets the last button. Changbin immediately feels the heat radiating off his body. He’s missed this so much, being close to his lover like this, pretending like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

He pulls his own shirt off over his head, suddenly in a rush. There’s nothing he wants more right now than to get sucked in by the mood, to forget everything outside of this tent. Being close to Hyunjin like this feels so good that he thinks that it might kill him, but that’s okay. It’s a good way to go. 

Hyunjin gets impatient, the way he always does, and pushes Changbin off himself. 

“Get my pants,” he says as he grabs the oil lamp from the side of the bed. He blows out the flame inside the glass and screws the top off, getting to the oil reservoir. 

Changbin pulls at the strings of Hyunjin’s pants, quickly dragging them down and off his feet. “Isn’t that hot?”

Hyunjin rubs the hot oil in between his fingers, coating them generously. “Not to me,” he says, a daring glint to his eyes, like he’s bragging about it.

It’s wondrous how every part of Hyunjin’s body seems to be laced in magic. Changbin watches his lover fall apart on his own fingers, opening up so easy around himself. It reminds him of their first time together, and how everything just felt so effortless and perfect. How Hyunjin could make Changbin’s discomfort fade away instantly, and could apparently do the same for his own.

Changbin wonders if this is what the universe had in mind when it decided how to bless the deities of the elements. Did it intend to make Hyunjin this beautiful and perfect? Did it intend to have his magic reach even to his cock?

“You’re thinking weird stuff again, I can feel it,” Hyunjin says, breathless already. 

“Only good things,” Changbin traces the inside of his lover’s thighs, the skin so soft and yet the muscle underneath ungiving, “I promise.”

Hyunjin wraps both arms around Changbin’s neck and pulls him down on top of him. His oiled up fingers graze past his skin, leaving a slippery trace. Changbin shivers at the idea that those fingers were just inside his lover, and even more so, that he’ll be the one replacing them soon.

“The only promise I wanna hear right now,” Hyunjin whispers against his ear, “is that you’ll fuck me well.”

Changbin’s tired arms almost give up on him at the words. Instead, he watches as Hyunjin moves to pull Changbin’s pants down with shaky hands, and vows to make that promise come true. 

Everything seems to move in a blur. So many feelings, all crashing over him at once, overwhelming his exhausted mind. Hyunjin takes over, guiding him through it, and before he knows it, there’s heat all around him. It feels like it should burn his dick right off, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t hurt him. Hyunjin could never hurt him.

There’s that familiar feeling, like a caress, tracing his insides, crawling up his spine. Hyunjin’s magic calms him, makes him feel like he’s at home, like he’s safe. He doesn’t want it to ever end. And yet Hyunjin’s nails dig into his back, urging him to move. 

Changbin knows he won’t last. It’s a battle he lost the moment he started it, but it’s a good thing that he doesn’t even intend on winning. He tries to distract himself as he moves, focusing on Hyunjin’s pretty frown, or the way he continues to bite and suck on his bottom lip as he stares down at the place where they connect. 

Unable to stop himself, Changbin leans down to press his lips again Hyunjin's forehead, kissing the beading sweat away. Hyunjin sighs at this, his first sign of pleasure. His lover has the tendency to hold back after all. 

Changbin doesn't want him to hold back. The walls surrounding them aren't even walls at all, just thin fabric separating them from the world. It's a risky game, someone might hear them. Actually, someone probably will. Someone might find out the country's worst kept secret. 

But Changbin is the damn king and he's too tired to hold back, so he lets his voice be heard, moaning into Hyunjin's mouth as he slowly kisses him. 

Thoughts poke at his defenses, bugging him and trying to get past the haze of pleasure. Thoughts of the war, of his guilt, his pain. However, they seem to be pushed away with each snap of his hips, with each time Hyunjin moans his name. He puts up a wall so high that nothing can possibly distract him from this new and perfect experience. 

Hyunjin is restless, impatient, Changbin can tell. His lover pushes him up and off of him and then turns onto his stomach. One look over his shoulder is enough to beckon Changbin closer again. It’s different like this, and Changbin kind of hates that he can’t see Hyunjin’s face as he fucks him, but the more he thrusts, the more he loves it.

He presses his body against Hyunjin, holding him down with his weight, sweaty skin sticking to even sweatier skin. Hyunjin cries out from pleasure with his face pushed into the bedding. Changbin knows everyone in the tents around them can hear it now, and it feeds his ego. He feels so in control like this, feels like he doesn’t have to think about anything and can just exist in this moment. The feeling of helplessness he had earlier is completely gone.

Hyunjin turns his head, wet hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes are glossy as he looks up at him. “Why–why does it feel so good?” 

Still riding that wave of confidence, Changbin leans down and kisses Hyunjin’s damp cheek. “Because it’s us,” is what he answers. 

His body takes over after that, tired brain clocking out completely. There’s heat all around him. Hyunjin’s magic, Hyunjin’s body, the heat of their love filling the tent. It’s overwhelming him completely. So when Hyunjin comes undone under him, he follows almost immediately. 

Changbin drops himself onto the bedding, absolutely exhausted. He hits it hard, barely anything in between him and the arid ground. Had he been pushing Hyunjin into this hard surface the entire time? He pulls at Hyunjin to come closer, rest on his chest, and strokes his reddened cheek with his thumb, soothing his skin.

He’s about to ask if he’s hurting anywhere, but then Hyunjin’s eyes widen suddenly. Changbin wants to ask what’s wrong, but then he hears it.

Footsteps. Circling the tent.

On instinct he pulls the sheets over them, covering their nudity. Geom is supposed to guard them, but the sound of the dragon snoring continues. And the footsteps don’t go away, rustling the dry grass underneath them. Then, whoever it is, starts pulling at the opening of the tent. Changbin had secured it properly, tied a knot in every string. The person outside sighs when they find that they can’t open it.

What follows is silence. Then, the sound of a knife being pulled and jammed into the tarp. 

Changbin is frozen from fear as he watches the metal tip enter the tent, and then slide down, cutting a hole into the tarp. It gives so easily. The knife must be sharp. 

The breeze enters first, the chill of an early summer night. Changbin shivers. 

Then, Jisung steps into the tent, face covered in blood and finger pressed against his lips to keep them quiet.

Hyunjin sits up, a question on his face. Changbin wants to jump off the bedding and take his best friend into his arms. 

But then he realizes it.

They’d agreed to a fair exchange at sunrise. Jisung looks even worse than before, like he’s been in a fight. He must’ve escaped, because there’s no way they had let him go without getting their prince back. But if Jisung escaped, that would ruin their chances of solving this without violence.

Changbin wants to strangle Jisung.

His friend reads his face, the way he always does and kneels down in front of the bedding. Defeated. Tired.

“They never intended to solve this without violence,” his voice is quiet, dead serious, “they’re going to kill us all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys have no idea how hard it was for me to not write jisung for a couple of chapters, I missed him so much!!!!
> 
> ALSO next Friday I will be uploading TWO chapters. in other words, this story is ending next week!!!


	8. Breaking the Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK U EVERYONE FOR YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS I LOVE YALL <333
> 
> this is one out of two updates! don't forget to click next chapter after this!
> 
> also heads up, lots of descriptions of violence and death in this one!

  
  


_“Why do they have to die?” Changbin sucks the end of his sleeve back into his mouth after asking the question, the cold and wet cotton providing a small form of comfort as he chews on it._

_He doesn’t understand why his father pulled him out of tutoring for this. His mother never allowed him to be present at the executions, saying that he was still too young to witness something so horrible. But mom was visiting her sister in her hometown right now, a two days’ ride away from the capital._

_“They have committed a crime, Changbin,” his father sits on his throne, a large hand on the top of Changbin’s head, stroking his hair. It doesn’t feel kind at all._

_Changbin sits on the cold, hard floor of the throne room, leaning against his father’s leg. From here, his father won’t be able to see his face, won’t be able to see the tears that are already forming in his eyes._

_The guards bring in three people. A middle-aged man, gray hair on his temples. A woman with a kind face and the longest braid Changbin has ever seen. And then, a child. The little boy must be around Changbin’s age, can’t be a day over nine years old._

_“Why?” Changbin asks again, not really knowing what he’s referring to anymore. Everything is just so wrong._

_“Their crime–” his father pauses as a man with a black hood enters the room, a heavy sword in his hands. The woman starts screaming at the sight of it. This seems to amuse his father, since he laughs before he continues, “You’ll find out about their crimes once you become king. Don’t bother your simple mind with it now. Just enjoy the view.”_

_Changbin squeezes his eyes shut instantly. He wants to get away, run out of this room and disappear. But there are people between him and the door. People who are about to die._

_The woman starts pleading for the life of her child. All words mix together, the sound of blood rushing in Changbin’s ears. He doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t want to hear it. He knows that he will never forget this. It will plague him all his life._

_There’s a sound of metal on metal, but Changbin doesn’t dare to open his eyes. The little boy started crying, he thinks. Or it could be his own sobbing that he’s hearing. His father’s hand is still stroking his hair._

_The woman’s final scream pierces his ears, and then there’s a wet thud, followed by the sound of the most pained cries he’s ever heard. It rips through him, like swallowing broken glass, and the feeling lodges itself deep inside his chest._

_At that moment Changbin decides that no matter what happens, he will never take a life._

* * *

Despite the situation they’re in, Jisung smiles when he’s handed a bow and a basket full of arrows. It’s not like the one he owns, not at all. Changbin had given his best friend a beautiful oak bow, adorned with detailed carvings. A proper weapon for a proper friend. But that one is back in the palace now.

And they’re out here, on the dry grasslands, eye to eye with a foreign army. 

Changbin has his back turned to the capital, but he can still feel its presence as he watches the sun rise. The foreign army casts tall shadows onto the grass, until the sun rises further, tall shadows turning into shorter ones. 

Hyunjin shifts next to him, nervous. 

Changbin decided to give up on keeping him away from the fight. His lover is so stubborn that it’s useless anyway. That aside, he needs to trust Hyunjin more, needs to trust that he’ll be alright. His powers might come in useful, especially since Daehwi, their only other deity present, was already sailing around the peninsula with the pirates to be taken home. 

The guards have taken prince Minghao and his pet tiger away from the camp to a secret location, so that he can’t be taken mid-fight. Changbin feels bitter, but if they want a fight, they can get it. And they sure as hell aren’t going to get what they came for that easily. Not after breaking the deal they made the night before. 

“This grass will burn well,” Hyunjin notes, kicking at the dry ground with his foot.

“Good for us, right?” Changbin asks, a fake smile on his lips.

He’s met with silence.

The plan is simple. Geom flies over the army and burns whoever stands at the backlines, chasing the soldiers forward with nowhere else to run. The dragon should take out a good part of the force, and Changbin’s soldiers will take out the rest. It’s the solution with the least amount of deaths. On his side at least.

It’s those damn drums again, beating at a steady rhythm, announcing the fight will commence soon. Changbin frowns as the sun blinds him, making it unable for him to see. He considers banning all drums in the country after this is dealt with. He never wants to hear them again. 

The sound of hooves next to him pulls him from his thoughts. It’s his sister on her horse, holding Changbin’s horse on a lead, bringing his trusted Hwan to him. Cheonsa doesn’t say anything, just watches Changbin struggle to mount his horse. She doesn’t have to speak. Changbin can guess all the judgemental things she’s thinking, probably thinks this is all his fault and that he could’ve prevented it.

What he doesn’t expect is for her to say, “Don’t worry. I’ll lead us to victory.” 

“I’m not worried,” Changbin lies, his sweaty, shaking hands clasping around the reins of his horse. 

Hyunjin has climbed onto a horse as well, standing by Changbin’s right side. He reaches over to link their pinky fingers together for a moment, like they once did before. That time seems so long ago now. Back then they were so unaware of all the dangers of the world, for all the terror and death that was yet to come. 

Everyone is present now. Hangyeol is behind him, next to his older sister, who seems more excited than anyone else to put her short swords to good use. Even Chan is here. Changbin spots his dark curls from the corner of his eye. He better actually fight this time, or Changbin will have to have some words with him. 

Somehow, Changbin doesn’t feel safe, even with the rows upon rows of soldiers backing him. They’re outnumbered, he thinks. But that should be taken care of soon.

Jisung stands ahead of the frontlines. No horse, no sword. Just him, his bow, and his ego.

Changbin nods at him, giving him the go-ahead. 

His friend reaches over his shoulder and gets an arrow from the basket on his back. With his hip cocked to the side, completely casual, he loads his bow, pulling the string back and aiming at the sky. With a wave of electrifying heat, the arrowhead catches on fire. Blue fire so hot that it melts the metal. But it gets no time to fully melt, because Jisung shoots it at the sky.

Everyone makes the mistake of looking up, following the arrow as it soars through the air, except for Jisung. He knows what to expect. Then, when it’s high enough to lose momentum, it explodes, sending out a flash of light that’s so bright that it temporarily blinds them. 

It’s the signal that Geom was waiting for. 

Changbin can’t see the dragon yet, because he’s still where they hid him earlier, way behind their army where the enemy couldn’t see him. But now he feels the ground shake as the creature runs, gaining speed to take off. Within an instant, his shadow falls over Changbin, and then he’s crossing the empty grasslands that separates their armies.

The drums continue, like their opponents aren’t even surprised to see the dragon. Or maybe it’s an intimidation tactic. If it is, then it’s working, because Changbin feels uneasy. He hopes that fear lessens, at least a tiny bit, as soon as Geom starts burning their forces.

But Geom never gets that far.

The light from the sun turns orange as a shadow passes in front of it. For a moment, it looks like the entire sky is on fire. There’s heat, unfamiliar, threatening.

Much like Geom, this creature is as black as coal, unnaturally so. Changbin can see through its body, meat scorched, and giving way for the flames that escape from within. Its wings spread wide, wider than Geom will ever grow. Its feathers haven’t withered under the flames that seem to sprout from its entire body, instead, they glow orange like melted glass.

Its beak looks long and sharp, especially as it spreads wide open, and then closes around Geom’s neck mid-air, the poor dragon as confused as Changbin is. 

“A hellbird.” Chan is next to him suddenly, his black stallion restless underneath him. It must be really bad if even that terrifying horse is unsettled.

“What the fuck is a hellbird?!” Changbin demands as he watches Geom scratch a piece of rotting skin off the creature with the nails of his hind legs, worming his way out of the bird’s jaws.

“It’s trouble. Serious trouble.” Even Chan sounds nervous now.

“Permission to charge?” Cheonsa asks.

Changbin watches Geom freefall in the sky, and picking himself up just in time. The dragon flies higher, luring the burning bird after him.

He nods, mind foggy. The sound of Cheonsa screaming doesn’t even register. It’s the ground shaking under him, soldiers on horses dashing past him, that snap him out of it. Hyunjin is gone from his side, dragged along by the masses. Everyone he knows is way ahead of him already. He doesn’t even know if Jisung managed to find himself a horse.

With a dig from his heel in Hwan’s side, he urges him to move. 

The drums pick up speed and then, finally, the enemy charges as well.

Changbin gets lost in the flurry of his own soldiers, unfamiliar faces all around him. Selfishly, he thinks that maybe he won’t get recognized amongst these commoners. He’d rather get killed instantly than taken captive and be tortured. 

His vision shakes as he tries to see the exact moment the frontlines meet each other. He doesn’t have to stress his eyes for it, because on the right there’s an electric blue flame, and on the left the familiar fire of his lover.

Great. His most important people are right at the front, where they are most vulnerable.

The sound of screams fill the air, barely overpowered by the screeching of the fight happening in the air above them. Changbin unsheathes his sword, more than ready to use it. Finally, he can see the enemy approaching, dozens of soldiers with the Sinhaean flag on their shield, cutting through Changbin’s untrained soldiers with ease. 

And then, just like that, they pass him, ignoring him completely.

Huh?

It’s like he’s invisible. He halts his horse and looks around. There’s his soldiers fighting the enemies everywhere. Metal against metal and then metal against flesh. People screaming as they die. Horses trampling their corpses in panic. And yet no one is coming for him while the others drop like flies.

Changbin is looking over his shoulder, his guard down, when a hard object hits him in the ribs, sending him flying off his horse.

Hwan takes off in a panic as soon as Changbin’s back hits the dry grass. He can’t even blame the horse. The man in front of him, who is now casting a shadow over him, is absolutely terrifying.

Changbin doesn’t remember ever in his life seeing anyone this… large. Not only is the man tall, no, it’s more than that. His posture is wide, but purely made out of muscle. The man’s arms are exposed, biceps bigger than a horse’s head, and veins bulging unnaturally. Changbin can’t see his face, head covered in a helmet, but he can see his dark and vacant eyes through the narrow rectangular opening.

The man just simply cannot be human, ground shaking as he takes a step forward, closer to Changbin. He raises his weapon, a heavy wooden club, covered in blood, with full intent to beat Changbin’s head in.

As Changbin rolls to his side, he realizes that this must be why all the other soldiers were avoiding him, that he is supposed to be this man’s target. Dust floats up as the club hits the dry ground, beating a dent into it so deep that Changbin knows he would’ve had a closed casket at his funeral if he hadn’t dodged it. But there’s no time to think about that now, because the man raises his weapon again.

Fear is a funny emotion. It’s like a wheel of fortune for Changbin, like the ones they have in the illegal gamble houses hidden in the capital’s alleys. He never knows how he’s going to act when faced with real terror. Most times, he freezes, indecisive and unable to react. Often, he runs away from what’s scaring him, either physically or by closing his eyes, shutting out the real world.

And very, _very_ rarely, he fights.

Oh, how lucky he is that today is one of those days.

He scrambles to regain his footing, standing on uneasy legs. But he’s standing, that’s at least something. His sword is in his hands instantly and raised in front of him. All he needs is to nick the giant attacking him, just a little scratch with his sword to knock him out. The hilt of the sword heats up in his hand, Hyunjin’s magic everpresent, as if it’s reminding him of its power.

The giant raises the club over his head, his movements slow because of his size. Changbin awaits his attack, everything else blurring as he watches the weapon strike down at him. At the last moment, he jumps to the left. Again, the club hits the ground hard. But Changbin doesn’t see it happen. He’s too occupied with the way his sword slices into the bare shoulder of the gigantic soldier.

The man looks to his side, his eyes shining in the shadow of his helmet. They’re on Changbin, annoyed, frustrated. Like someone looking at the mosquito that just bit them.

And worst of all, he doesn’t go unconscious. 

Changbin looks down at his sword, confused, even for a second wondering if he has the wrong one. But it’s definitely his sword, and he can feel the magic running through it. So why didn’t it work?

He has no time to think about it, because the monstrous soldier comes swinging at him again. This time around, he anticipates Changbin jumping to the side, so he sticks out his leg, tripping him.

Changbin falls face-first onto the ground, choking on the dust that flies up. He watches the soldier coming closer, his bare feet digging into the grass. Changbin’s heart is like the drums, beating at a threatening pace. The fear urges him to move, to get away. He crawls through the dust, out of breath and desperate to get away from the man. But the man seems amused at this, just following him slowly, taking his time to find the right moment to slam down on him.

A horse rushes past, almost trampling Changbin, and it’s enough to urge him to get back up again. This time, Changbin has two hands on his sword. He just has to cut deeper, is what he figures. The soldier might be twice his size, and incredibly strong, but Changbin is faster and smarter.

They get wrapped up in a morbid dance that becomes more dreadful by the moment. The giant swings, Changbin dodges and cuts him, and then nothing happens. Swing. Dodge. Cut. And repeat.

Changbin finds himself hitting harder every time, bile rising up in his mouth as the sharp blade slices into the discolored skin. The smell of blood is so strong that he can almost feel it on his tongue, like the taste of sucking on an old spoon. The tears of frustration that run down his cheeks are pathetic, embarrassing even, but he can’t help it. He just wants it all to fucking stop.

Finally, he ducks low, club swinging over the top of his head and making his hair sway in the blast of it. And then, he stumbles forward, getting behind the large man. It takes all his strength, but he swings his sword and hits the target.

The feeling of tendons being ripped apart under his sword is something he knows he will never forget. Dark blood oozes at the back of the giant’s ankles. Changbin moves away just in time to avoid being buried under the man as he falls backward, unable to stand on his destroyed legs. 

Changbin wants to vomit.

He looks down at the man, lying down and covered in blood. Changbin tries to catch his breath as he counts the wounds on the soldier. Twenty-seven in total. All of them by Changbin. He’s going to be sick.

And yet, the man is still awake, reaching his injured arm to try and grab at Changbin’s leg. 

Changbin knows what he has to do. It’s what any king would do to someone who tried to end his life. It’s what his soldiers would expect from him. Hell, it’s what his soldiers are doing in his stead right now, all around him.

He raises his sword, pointed end aimed at the soldier’s throat. He needs to end it. Now. There’s no way around it.

And yet he lets his sword slip from his shaky hands and clatter onto the soldier’s breastplate.

Changbin falls back onto his behind in the dry grass, leaning down on his tired hands as he sobs.

He can’t do it.

He can’t take someone’s life. Even this monstrosity of a man that tried to kill him. He’d rather die. 

The soldier rolls onto his side, crawling forward, towards Changbin, a clear goal. Changbin is frozen, useless. He just wants it all to end.

And end it does.

A flash of light blinds him as a sword reflects the sun, forcing him to close his eyes. Changbin can hear it swinging through the air, and then the familiar thud. 

When he opens his eyes, the soldier’s decapitated head lies at his feet. 

“Saving your life is becoming a habit of mine.” Chan picks Changbin’s sword from the grass, while he holds his own bloody one in the other hand nonchalantly. 

Changbin rubs the tears of his cheeks, embarrassed. Then, he takes his sword from Chan before slowly standing up. Chan kicks at the head and watches it roll away from them with an amused look on his face. “You did some good damage to him. It’s not every day you’re faced with a giant halfling.” 

Changbin leans forward, gagging and coughing. But nothing comes out. It leaves him breathless and broken as he says, “Shut up.”

Chan smiles again. “You’re welcome.”

It’s only now that he notices how far out they are, the fight happening a distance away from them. He hadn’t realized it during his fight with the soldier, but he probably subconsciously removed himself from the melee and crawled onto a hill. From here, higher than everyone else, he can oversee the entire field. He’s lucky Chan came all the way out here to save him.

In the air, Geom screeches. Changbin looks up to find that the dragon is hurt, but not as hurt as his opponent. If they make it out of here alive, he should really reward the beast with a good meal.

The battle is still going and Changbin squints his eyes and looks down into the valley to see what’s going on. “Are we winning?” he asks.

“No, but we aren’t losing,” Chan says.

It’s a flurry of people and horses, screams everywhere. Changbin can feel the sheer force of it rumbling through the ground, feet and hooves alike. He tries to see if the foreign prince is somewhere or if he’s hiding cowardly back in a tent in the Sinhaean camp. Then, to the far left of the crowd of soldiers, he sees familiar fire.

Hyunjin is still alive.

On instinct, Changbin takes a step forward, but a hand at his chest stops him.

He looks over to see Chan’s confused and worried face.

Changbin turns to the fight again, trying to spot what has him so worried. Technically, everything about this fucked up situation is worrying. But nothing jumps out in particular.

That is until the ground starts rumbling again.

“Wha–” Changbin doesn’t get the chance to finish. 

It’s like a wave ripples through the sea of soldiers. They move unnaturally. His first thought is an earthquake, but then the army starts sinking, falling into the earth. 

Exactly where Hyunjin is.

Changbin lets out a silent scream. He’s frozen in place as he watches hundreds, maybe even more, sink into the ground as the earth slowly disappears underneath them. There’s sounds of terror, men yelling at others to run, but the hole in the ground widens, dragging so many of them down.

And then it’s awfully silent.

Confused, parts of the army that weren’t swallowed up halt their fighting. Some even start running up the hills, trying to find safety before more of the ground disappears into the sinkhole. Others are frozen, probably waiting for a superior to tell them what to do.

But Changbin is in no state to be giving any orders, because Hyunjin is buried underground.

He needs to get to him, find him, dig him out with his own hands. This war isn’t worth winning if he loses someone he loves. What would he even be fighting for? He starts running down the hill, almost stumbling over his feet. His lungs hurt. He’s not breathing properly. But he doesn’t care. Hyunjin probably can’t breathe at all. 

Then, he suddenly comes to a stop. It’s like a voice from within tells him to wait, his intuition warning him that it’s dangerous to come any closer. 

The earth rumbles again, but this time it’s different from before. 

Even through the soles of his shoes, Changbin can feel the ground under him warm up. 

Then, like a slap in the face, there’s a wave of heat. He falls backward, feeling his skin almost burn at the sheer temperature that’s coming towards him. His lungs beg for oxygen, but the air is too hot to breathe.

From the hole in the ground rises a tower of fire, shooting into the sky, unlike anything he’s ever seen before. And then, lava, oozing out of the hole like a plugged sink. It’s glowing orange, and Changbin would rub his dry eyes to see if he’s not imagining it, but it’s clear as day. 

“Run for your life!” a soldier screams, running past Changbin and up the hill.

Horses whinny in pain as their coat gets burned. Men cry out their last breath as the hot air chokes them. The dry grass around the hole sets aflame easily, and it spreads quick, not discriminating between Changbin’s soldiers and the Sinhaean ones. No, it burns everyone in its path.

There’s a hand at the back of his shirt, pulling him up the hill. It’s Hangyeol. His sleeve is burned clean off and his skin is scorched, but he’s alive with only one goal in mind, saving Changbin.

And he would have allowed him, gladly so.

But then he sees him.

His eyes are dark, filled with fear and anger, unrecognizable. The lava cools under his bare feet, solidifying just enough to let him walk on the liquid rock. The heat doesn’t seem to burn him, not one bit. 

As always, Hyunjin is completely immune to the fire.

His lover seems out of it, not really there as he walks out of the hole, lava following him. Dead bodies burn all around him, but he’s not bothered by it. It’s like he’s been taken over by some– some monster or something. 

Terror. Up until now, Changbin had been feeling a watered-down version of fear, but this is true terror. Real, unfiltered, life-changing terror as he watches the love of his life be someone he’s not. Or maybe this is his true nature. 

He doesn’t want to see it, but he can’t look away, eyes dried out from the heat unable to blink.

It’s not the first time he’s seen how evil a deity’s power can be. But last time he saw it, Jisung put an end to it.

And it seems his friend is planning to repeat that history.

Changbin’s mouth opens but he can’t scream the words, can’t tell his best friend to drop his bow. Jisung’s arrow is already on fire, aimed at Hyunjin, string pulled tight.

Jisung lets go and the arrow flies.

The drums finally fall quiet as Changbin’s vision goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is also up!!! ➡️


	9. Wilted Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter! yay!!! 
> 
> note that this was a double update, so pls check if you've read the previous chapter! 
> 
> heads up for mention of animal death in this one

“Wake up, dumbass.”

The voice is soft, and there’s no mean intention in it. The shaking at his shoulder makes Changbin feel like he’s on a boat again, stomach sick from floating on the waves. God, how he wishes he could be near the water again. Or better yet, back on the island. He misses it so much. If he keeps his eyes closed he can pretend he’s still there.

“You leave me no choice,” says the familiar voice, and then, a harsh slap to his cheek, electricity chasing through his entire body.

Changbin’s eyes fly open as he takes a sharp breath, lungs burning. He sits up, sheets falling off of him, and takes in his new surrounding, panic rising in his chest. 

“Welcome back,” Jisung says next to him, defeated smile on his lips, “Time to do politics and shit.”

“What?” Changbin’s voice breaks. He doesn’t remember going back to a tent, doesn’t remember climbing onto the bedding and under the covers.

“We lost.” Jisung looks at the ground, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “We were outnumbered, after, you know–”

Changbin digs in his memory. He remembers passing out, remembers the faint feeling in his head and hitting the ground after he saw– after he saw–

He remembers it now. 

He’s on top of Jisung before he can stop himself.

Jisung’s eyes are wide, shocked, not even bothering to fight him off. Changbin fists the collar of his friend’s shirt, shaking him. He wants to fucking strangle him, kill him right here, right now. Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to find his voice.

“Hyunjin. You killed Hyunjin.”

Jisung frowns, and then there’s relief on his face. He wraps his hands around Changbin’s wrists, easing some of the weight off of him and says, “No, I didn’t. He’s alive.”

“Huh?” Changbin sniffs, face wet.

“I’m a godslayer. Singular. That hasn’t changed.” Jisung slowly peels Changbin’s fingers from his shirt. “Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

The camp is a mess. There are soldiers running around, trying to catch stray horses. And then there are medics, tending to small injuries. Changbin casts his eyes down in shame, knowing he’s the reason for it. 

Jisung leads him to a larger tent, holding the tarp open so Changbin can enter.

It’s the medic tent, where the soldiers with more serious injuries lie. There are moans of pain everywhere and the smell of blood is overwhelming. 

Hyunjin is sitting with his knees in the dirt next to a cot, hands hovering over a man’s broken knee, healing it slowly.

“I only shot Hyunjin in the leg, Bin,” Jisung explains, “I had to snap him out of it somehow, or we would’ve all died.”

Changbin puts his hand on Jisung’s shoulder, wordlessly forgiving him, and then walks forward. He’s still in disbelief. Hyunjin looks worried about the task at hand, compassion on his face. So very much unlike the Hyunjin that he saw earlier in a sea of fire.

“Hey,” he says, softly.

Hyunjin looks up, surprise on his face. Then, he looks away, his cheeks heating up from shame. “Hey,” he answers even more quietly.

“Are you alright?” Changbin wants to kiss him and hold him and make sure he is so, but they’re in public. He can’t ruin his image more than it already is.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” Hyunjin cocks his chin to the other end of the tent, “Felix won’t let me help, but he can do it, I think. His kind is better at healing than I am.”

Changbin frowns, confused, and then makes his way to the bed at the far end. Just like Hyunjin said, Felix is kneeling down, small hand glowing as it rests on Cheonsa’s slit throat.

His other hand is on her chest. It rises slowly and then falls again. She’s breathing, but Changbin doesn’t understand how. Just as much as he doesn’t understand why it hurts him so much to see his sister like this. He thought he hated her, and yet–

“She’s not dead,” Felix’ deep voice is reassuring, “but she’s not alive either.”

“H–how?” Changbin stammers.

“She’s gonna be alright,” Felix says while not taking his eyes off of her. And then, “You have more important things to do. Go.” 

* * *

Changbin watches the rain fall on the fields. Steam drifts up in the air from where it bounces off the volcanic rock, lava now hardened without Hyunjin’s powers keeping it aflame. The dead haven’t even been collected yet, bodies scattered all across the valley like fucked up confetti. He wonders if that’s even his responsibility anymore.

“Sign it.” The urgent voice pulls his attention back from gazing out of the opening in the makeshift parlay tent. 

In front of him lies a contract. A contract saying that he’s officially signing over his country to become a territory of the Sinhaean prince, with the promise of them not executing Changbin. It would allow him and his family to live in the palace still, but never leave it. Like prisoners in a dungeon. 

How generous.

Changbin picks at his cuticles, stretching time. He doesn’t like being king, not one bit. But just giving up like this? It’s easier said than done. Blame his pride, or his stubbornness, or the unwillingness to accept that all of his soldiers died for nothing. 

He turns to Chan, who’s standing next to Hangyeol behind him. “Ask him what he’s gonna do with the country once it’s his?” 

Chan seems amused at his stubbornness, and asks the question in the foreign language.

The twin prince answers. Changbin doesn’t need any translation. He recognizes the word from earlier. The enemy soldiers were screaming it as they were running away from it.

Fire. 

“Sign,” the prince says again with a thick accent.

Changbin doesn’t think he’s going to walk out of here alive if he refuses, so he sees no other choice. There’s nothing he can do about it if he’s dead anyway. So he lifts the pen and signs the contract, as slow as possible.

There are soldiers on them immediately.

Chan gets his arms twisted behind his back, as does Hangyeol. Before either of them can fight back, the young magical boy from before is there, paralyzing them with a quick flick of his hand.

Changbin feels his wrists being tied together and then he’s lifted up to stand. The foreign prince smiles as the guards drag Changbin outside and into the rain.

The other twin is there, prince Minghao, with a satisfied look on his face. He’s not alone, no, his tiger is there too. It looks hungry.

He looks over his shoulder at his own camp where everyone is waiting for his return. They were ordered to stay in their tents until it was over. A courtesy, he was told, standard parlay procedure.

Changbin wants to scream, wants to yell for his friends to come save him, or call for Geom to fly in and burn them all, but he gets a rag shoved into his mouth before he can. He almost throws up, the taste of the fabric vile. The sky continues to crash down on him, so dark.

“Kind of funny, isn’t it?” Minghao bends down until he’s eye to eye with Changbin. The bandages on his face are wet and peeling, showing the blistered and burned skin. “Isn’t the symbol of your family a tiger?” He grabs Changbin’s cheek, squeezing it like someone would with a baby. “And now you’re gonna be eaten by one.” Minghao snorts like it’s the most hilarious thing in the world.

Thunder booms through the dark sky and the tiger snarls, fangs bared. 

And here he was thinking he would be getting away scotfree. 

At this point, he could laugh as well.

“Any last words?” the prince asks, knowing fully well that Changbin can’t speak through the gag. 

Lightning flashes through the sky, and it’s so nearby. Thunder follows immediately, reminding Changbin of the drums. But the sound doesn’t end, just continues rumbling. 

The rumbling becomes more apparent, like it’s getting closer. It’s not an earthquake, nor another sinkhole. No, it’s the sound of hooves. 

Changbin and Minghao turn their head at the same time and watch the army appear on the horizon. It’s larger than both of their armies combined, and the horses run in a strict formation, properly trained.

A rider runs ahead of them, and in his hand, he holds two flags.

One Sinhaean.

One white. 

The color of surrender.

* * *

Changbin has never been so happy to see a contract be torn to shreds. 

The man in front of him is meticulous, making sure it’s ripped into a million pieces until not a single word is legible on the small pieces of paper. On each side of him sits one of the twin princes, their heads cast down in shame.

Changbin is reminded of something he saw when he was younger. When they were barely teenagers, Jisung had snuck them out of the palace and into the slums, promising him some interesting street foods. As Changbin waited for his friend in an alley, hiding as to not be recognized by a commoner, he witnessed a fight.

It was a fight between two stray dogs over a piece of bone. There was hardly any meat left on the bone, probably tossed into the alley after someone was done snacking on it, but it was enough for the starving dogs to fight over. Changbin watched them in fear, nervous that something bad would happen to them, or worse, that they would notice him and eat him.

Instead of that, he spotted a small cat appear from the shadows. The dogs were still growling at each other, teeth bared and snapping at each other’s throat. They were so distracted that they didn’t even notice the cat sneak in and take the bone right from under their noses. 

Changbin guesses this is how the third and oldest Sinhaean prince became the new emperor while his younger brothers were out here starting wars.

The man sits and then puts his hands on his siblings’ heads. He strokes their hair lovingly at first, but then with his full strength, he forces them forward until their faces hit the mud. “My little brothers are terribly sorry,” he says with a smile, not even sparing a glance to where the twins are involuntarily bowing. “Our empire is already big enough, and we don’t seek expansion.”

Changbin eyes him warily. He has heard all about this man, Cheonsa filled him in a while back. The oldest and favorite son, Yixing. Leader of the navy, and singlehandedly responsible for Sinhae’s riches through his international trade of crops. Changbin was told the man had no interest in becoming emperor. But then again, Changbin never had any interest in becoming king either, and yet here he is.

“Apology accepted,” Changbin says, bitterly.

There’s a sudden silence. It’s just them in the tent, no guards, just royal enemies. Changbin feels uneasy, like there’s still another sneak attack about to happen, but there’s nothing hiding in the shadows. 

Then, the new emperor stands quickly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go back home.”

Changbin stands as well, confused. There are still things they need to discuss, treaties to sign, compensations on both ends. But the other is already pushing his siblings out of the tent like he’s in a rush.

He chases after them, almost slipping in the wet grass. “Wait,” Changbin calls after him, not even knowing what he wants to ask of the man.

The emperor turns, face sullen. Then, his eyes fall to the grass between them. He leans down to pick a flower from the wet ground, one that was spared from being trampled. The emperor looks at its petals falling off instantly, and then the stem goes limp, almost as if it rots in his hand.

His eyes are filled with worry as he looks back at Changbin. “I pray for the future of your country.”

* * *

The sweaty, golden coat shines as he brushes it, almost like the golden crown he’s wearing. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go for a ride?” Changbin asks his horse. Hwan just huffs, leaning down to continue munching on his pile of hay. 

He can’t blame the horse. It’s way cooler inside the stables. Changbin wishes he could stay here forever too, in the shade, just listening to the cicadas sing outside. For a second he rests his forehead against the side of Hwan’s stomach, once again thanking every god in the universe that his horse survived the war. It’s only been a month since then, but it seems so far away now.

Then, there’s someone wrapping their arms around his waist, slowly pulling him backward. He doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to see who it is. Hyunjin has brought the summer heat from outside with him, warming his body with his touch, making him even sweatier.

“Stop, I’m sticky,” he complains, but his heart isn’t in it.

Hyunjin’s lips are on his neck, pressing onto his damp skin. “Oh no, whatever will I do?” he whispers.

Changbin smiles. Hyunjin is such a bad actor, but it’s charming. He doesn’t have to act around him at all, and neither does Changbin. Here, in this moment they can just be themselves. 

“Seungmin is fishing by the river,” Hyunjin says, pressing a kiss at the back of his ear, “so the stables are all ours.”

Hwan turns his back on them, obviously annoyed. Hyunjin pulls Changbin further away before the horse can kick him in the shin. Dust dances on the rays of sunlight that shine in through the cracks of the wooden walls. Changbin drops the brush on the floor, and Hyunjin drags him back until they fall onto a bale of hay.

The hay prickles at Changbin’s bare calves, but the feeling quickly gets overpowered by Hyunjin’s hands slipping under his shirt. They trace his chest, impatient, wanting to get to every part of him. Changbin sighs deeply and closes his eyes, basking in the moment, surrendering completely.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin whispers against his skin, and his voice is heavy, loaded. “Thank you, thank you,” he repeats.

Changbin reaches behind himself, fingers slipping into Hyunjin’s hair, cradling his head. “For what?” He’s concerned, but he knows it’s better not to look at him right now. It’s better to give him a moment.

“For not being scared of me after–” Hyunjin’s breath hitches and then he falls silent. 

His lover still can’t talk about it, about the day of the battle. Changbin remembers it all too well, like the memory is burned into his retina. Burned like all the people Hyunjin killed on that day. He doesn’t dare to ask him about it, not yet, but he has his own theory.

Hyunjin had told him about how he woke up in his own grave a hundred years ago, and how uncomfortable he gets when he’s underground, not surrounded by sturdy walls. Changbin knows the reason why the earth collapsed during the battle was because of the drought, which created the sinkhole. He gathers that when Hyunjin got dragged down, buried under the dirt, it triggered something in him. Whatever it triggered, it finally allowed him to tap into his full potential.

Changbin wishes Daehwi hadn’t skipped town so he could ask him about it. 

He finally turns, pressing a soft kiss to his lover’s mouth. “How could I ever be scared of you.”

Hyunjin lets go of the breath he was holding and kisses him back. This time there’s no rush to it, and it doesn’t feel like it’s even leading anywhere. They’re just content in this moment, happy to be together, to be connected. 

That is until Geom sticks his head through the stable doors. 

All the horses whinny as the dragon exhales a hot breath, heating up the otherwise cool space. Geom whines, almost like a dog, and just looks at them.

Neither Changbin nor Hyunjin can say no to the creature so they both get up, petting the dragon’s nose. Changbin strokes one of the scars on his scales. He doesn’t know whatever happened to the hellbird that Geom fought on that day, and he wishes he could ask him. But at least he can assume that the dragon won, because he’s still alive.

Suddenly, Geom seems uneasy, turning his head to listen to something. Then, he waddles backward, backing up from the stables to get away. Changbin already knows what it is. There’s only one person the dragon is scared of.

“Changbin,” his sister turns the corner, “mom wants to see us.”

Quickly, he stands on his toes to press a kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek, not even bothering to hide his relationship from Cheonsa anymore. She won’t tell anyone either way. It would be hypocritical, since she also has a secret now.

Changbin glances at the scar on her neck as he walks with her. It’s fading from red to pink now, and it will soon be even lighter. It looks a lot like Changbin’s own scar on his eyebrow. Just like him, Cheonsa chose to not have it healed all the way. A memento. 

“How’s Felix,” he asks, a smile jerking at the corner of his mouth.

“Mind your business,” Cheonsa spits out, picking up the pace and sprinting up the winding stairs in front of them.

They find their mother in the library, sitting by the fireplace with a woolen blanket over her legs. In her lap lies a small book. It’s bound in leather, void of a title.

“Aren’t you warm, mother?” Changbin asks, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She seems to startle, like she didn’t hear them come in. Then, she looks at the blanket on her lap, quickly shrugging it off. “Old age makes me chilly,” she explains. She puts her hand over Changbin’s on her shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. 

“You wanted to see us?” Cheonsa asks, a bit impatient. 

“Yes, I have something for you two.” Their mother runs her fingers over the book in her lap, sliding easily over the calfskin cover. Then, she hands it to Changbin. “This book tells the history of our family. I thought it was about time you knew.”

Changbin feels the weight of the book in his hand. It’s heavier then it seems at first. He wants to open it, but then he finds the small lock on the side, holding it together. “The key?” he asks.

His mother just smiles.

Cheonsa rips the book away from him, flipping it around in her hands. She pulls at the lock once, twice, and then throws the book back at Changbin. He catches it just in time. “Let’s not dwell on the past,” she says, and then she’s out the door.

“She still doesn’t know how to admit defeat, doesn’t she?” his mother asks, not expecting an answer. The truth speaks for itself. “You’ll find a way to open it, I’m sure of it. You’re the king, after all.”

After that, Changbin finds Jisung on the roof, lying on his back with his hands behind his head, basking in the sun. His sweaty hair is sticking to his forehead, the strands now magically dyed blue like the cloudless sky. The sun has already burned the bridge of his nose, but his friend makes no attempt to escape the heat.

“I’m looking for a locksmith,” Changbin jokes, sitting down in the gravel next to him.

Jisung opens one eye, looking at him lazily. Then, he spots the book in Changbin’s hand. That seems to capture his interest. Quickly, he sits up, taking the book from him. 

He inspects it, and then he tries to force it open by sheer strength. Of course, it doesn’t budge. The only option he has left is magic, which he gladly uses. Changbin has seen Jisung open locks with his magic many times, which is why he came here first. So it comes to a surprise when Jisung throws blue sparks at the lock, and nothing happens.

“I don’t like this book,” Jisung says after the third attempt. He throws it back in Changbin’s lap, sticking out his bottom lip. Somehow he looks more upset than he should be.

“What’s up?” Changbin asks.

There’s a dramatic sigh, and then silence. But Changbin just waits, knowing that Jisung will talk eventually. 

“I keep on being useless to you,” Jisung says, an annoyed frown on his face, “This, and getting captured by the enemy,” Jisung leans forward and whispers, “and I didn’t even get anything done for the secret mission you gave me.”

Changbin flips the book over in his hands, and then tosses it to the side. He’s never seen Jisung like this. His friend is usually more confident, sometimes even too confident. Maybe this is a good development, for Jisung to show his vulnerable side more often. Or for him to trust Changbin with this.

The gravel hurts his knees as he moves to reach his arms around Jisung, pulling him into a hug. Jisung stiffens, surprised, but Changbin just continues to squeeze the air out of him. “Just forget about that,” Changbin finally says when Jisung relaxes against him, “I’m just happy you’re alive.”

“Sap,” Jisung says before pressing a wet kiss to Changbin’s neck. “We should do this more often,” he adds.

Changbin pulls himself off of his friend, shirt sticking to his sweaty chest. “We’ll see about that.”

Jisung lets himself fall backward again, closing his eyes and enjoying the sun. “Minho is so busy nowadays, so I could use a hug every now and then.” The words are heavy, but Jisung pretends like it’s nothing, sniffing and then swatting at a gnat that lands on his nose. “You should go see him, by the way. He has something to show you. Maybe he can help you with that book,” Jisung suggests.

Changbin hesitates for a moment, but he doesn’t want to pry. So he just gets up, says his goodbyes, grabs the book and goes on his way.

The temperature drops tremendously as he descends the stairs. The palace walls are good at keeping the heat out, especially below ground level, the air of the basement almost comfortably cool.

It’s been a while since he’s seen Minho. The man had holed himself up in his room for weeks now, working on something. The last time Changbin saw him was when they returned from battle. Minho’s face had been incredulous when he saw Jisung was still alive. Then, there was joy and tears. Changbin thinks he’s never seen Minho that happy.

Changbin wonders what changed since then.

He finds the door to Minho’s study to be unlocked, half ajar to let in some fresh air. And when Changbin enters, he realizes why. The air is thick, and it smells awful. It’s nauseating, and yet somehow familiar. Changbin’s stomach stirs unsettled, and for a moment he considers turning around and leaving.

“Ah, Changbin!” Minho sticks his head around a bookcase with a smile on his face. He probably heard him enter.

“Hey.” Changbin stands in the door opening, hesitant. Without even thinking about it, he sticks the book into the back pocket of his pants and lets his shirt fall over it, hiding it from view. “What are you up to, Min?” 

“So much!” Minho moves out of his sight and rustles some papers. Then, he turns the corner again and walks up to Changbin, showing him his weird drawings again.

There’s that uncomfortable tug at Changbin’s stomach again, telling him that something is very wrong.

“So, I’ve been working on this for a while now, and really made some progress since you gave me an unlimited budget.” Minho flips through his papers, attention scattered. Changbin does remember giving him the go-ahead, but that was just because he was too preoccupied with other things to pay any attention to Minho. 

He regrets this as he takes one of the papers from Minho, looking at the sketch. It’s a body, that’s for sure, with cuts and stitches all over. There are notes written on both sides of the paper in a language that Changbin doesn’t know. His heart drops when he notices that the drawn body doesn’t have hands, but claws instead, like a cat, but unnaturally long.

“And since we lost so many lives in the war, I figured the country could use some extra protection, so I sped up the progress.” Minho runs his fingers through his messy hair, combing it out of his face.

Changbin wants to tell him he’s scaring him, wants to turn around and run away, only to avoid his suspicions. But more than scared, he’s curious. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Minho drags at his arm, pulling him forward. Changbin drops the papers as Minho tugs at him, but his friend doesn’t seem to care. 

As he walks, Changbin looks around the room. It’s been rearranged since the last time he visited, and it’s darker than ever. The smell doesn’t seem to leave Changbin’s nose. It’s heavy and worrying.

They pass the sink and Changbin tries his best to ignore what’s inside it; a bloodied knife with tufts of fur sticking to it. 

“It needs some work, but–” Minho stops in front of the table, almost stumbling over his words with his excitement, “at least it’s alive!”

Changbin watches the figure on the table sit up slowly. It’s no longer human, no, it has died a long time ago, the discolored skin tells Changbin that much. When his stomach threatens to turn on itself he realizes that this is where the smell has been coming from. 

He dreads it, but it’s like he knows it’s about to happen before it does. And yet, he can’t look away when the creature blinks its eyes open, staring right at him. The slit-shaped pupils widen to adjust to the darkness. Then, the creature looks down at its own hands. With fear in his heart, Changbin watches the claws slip out of the deformed hands, thick and dark blood slipping out between its knuckles.

“Minho–” Changbin takes a shaky breath before he finds the strength to ask the question he already knows the answer to. 

“What happened to your cat?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to everyone who read this story and commented every week, thank you so much, I'm very grateful!! i hope this story managed to entertain you! I've coincidentally started writing chapter 1 for part 3 yesterday, so look forward to that somewhere in like... 2 months I hope? part 3 is gonna be a bit darker than this one, but it'll tie all loose ends together and wrap it up nicely 🙏
> 
> ps. if you haven't subscribed to my ao3 account yet, pls do, because I have some new changjin coming soonish 👍


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